


Bandom One Shots

by orphan_account



Category: All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Van Days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots based off of headcanons sent by a wonderful tumblr anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peterick - Just A Little Bit Gay (Maybe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Van Days) 
> 
> The boys have their first hotel night in what feels like ages, and Pete has some girl over with him. Patrick's never been jealous before, but he keeps finding himself red in the face thinking about how Pete - HIS Pete - is with someone else. Awkward as ever though, he has no idea what to do about it.

Patrick had been cramped up in the small van with three other guys plus all their instruments and everything for _far_ too long. He couldn’t fall asleep without either waking up on top of one of them or waking up with one of them on top of _him_ . There just wasn’t enough space. Half the time he ended up using a guitar as a pillow. Or Pete. It hadn’t taken Patrick very long to discover that Pete made a really good pillow. Actually, it had taken him about a _day_ to realize that Pete made a good pillow. It hadn’t been, like, intentional or anything though. He’d just happened to fall asleep, and when he’d woken up, his head had been on his incredibly comfortable shoulder. He definitely hadn’t made it his personal goal to use Pete as a pillow as much as possible as the four of them dragged themselves across the country for the rest of the year. Definitely not. That would be ridiculous. And gay. Which Patrick was most certainly not. Not at all.

“If we don’t find a motel to sleep in after the show tonight, I’m actually going to lose my fucking mind,” Pete announced one day as Andy drove them all down a winding highway on their way to Baltimore. “I need a pillow.”

“I don’t know, you make a pretty great pillow,” Patrick mumbled from where his head rested on his shoulder.

“That’s great for you and all, but it’s a little hard for _me_ to have a pillow if you’re just laying on me all of the time,” Pete rolled his eyes. “All I have is our stupid, fucked up window. If it even _counts_ as a window.”

“Pete, stop being a grumpy shit,” Joe griped from the front seat.

“It’s in the job description,” he shot back. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III: A Grumpy Little Shit.”

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III,” Patrick said absentmindedly. “A Good Pillow.”

“Patrick Martin Stumph: Really Gay For Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III,” Joe laughed.

“Shut up, I am not,” he said defiantly.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Joe teased.

“ _Nothing_ is going to make me sleep at night if you keep talking,” Patrick told him, moving closer to Pete in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“I think we managed to piss off the kid,” Pete said to Joe, looking down at Patrick.

“I’m not a kid,” Patrick grumbled, his voice muffled by Pete’s shoulder.

“Do you three _ever_ stop talking?” Andy asked, pulling his attention away from the road for a few seconds.

“Not really,” Pete answered. “It’s generally pretty hard to get me to shut the fuck up.”

“ _We know_ ,” Patrick and Andy said in unison.

“Joe, they’re attacking me. Back me up here,” Pete said, turning to look at him, a pleading look in his eyes.

Joe just rolled his eyes and went back to his book. Andy also focused his attention back on driving, leaving Pete to find some way to amuse himself.

He looked out the window and watched the landscape pass, letting himself get lost in his thoughts for a while. It wasn't long before his eyes got heavy and he started to drift off, Patrick already asleep on his chest.

***

Patrick got to the hotel after Pete, since he needed to talk to Joe about a chord progression. He dropped his bag onto the floor and was about to collapse on the closest bed before he noticed that Pete wasn’t the only other person in the room.

Pete was sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, a girl Patrick recognized from the show sitting on his knee.

“You don’t mind that ‘Trick’s here, do you?” Pete asked mystery groupie.

Patrick felt a spark of jealousy because Pete was _his._ Pete didn’t even know this girl. If he wanted someone to hang out with and sit with, why didn’t he just ask him? They were friends, right? Wasn’t that what friends did?

“He can stay,” she said, although she sounded slightly disheartened.

“Don’t worry, he has headphones for a reason.”

Patrick blushed and got up. “I’m going to go take a shower, I-I’ll be out in a while,” he said before grabbing his bag and heading quickly into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

 _Of course_ Pete was going to sleep with someone while he was in the room. Not that Patrick was jealous, because, after all, he was straight. He didn’t want to have sex with Pete - not very often at least, but that was just because they were cooped up in a van all day. He just wanted to spend time with Pete. Like, spend _all_ of his time with Pete.

He turned on the shower to block out the noises that would inevitably start soon. This was nothing new in Pete and Patrick’s friendship; Pete got laid, Patrick got jealous. He got into the shower and hummed something softly under his breath, trying to take his mind off Pete and what was probably happening outside.

***

They had enough money for a hotel, but not a good one, so the hot water ran out after about ten minutes. Patrick got out and toweled off, taking a second to enjoy the fact that he was clean and not stuck in a van with three other guys. His moment of relaxation ended when he heard the sounds of soft conversation through the door.

Couldn’t he kick her out already? It wasn’t like Mystery Groupie _meant_ anything to Pete! Not like Patrick did, or at least hoped he did. Wasn’t Patrick more important to him than some groupie?

He pulled pants and a sweatshirt - which might have been Pete’s, it was hard to tell whose clothes were whose - out of his bag and got dressed, grinding his teeth in annoyance. He knocked on the door, really hoping that they had clothes on or at least were covered by a blanket.

“You okay in there, ‘Trick?” Pete asked, causing Mystery Groupie From Hell to laugh, which made Patrick even more annoyed. Now he was a joke to Pete, fantastic.

“Yeah, can I come out?” he replied, trying not to sound like he wanted to commit first-degree murder.

“Sure, are we talking about the closet or the bathroom?” More laughter from Mystery Groupie From Hell.

He unlocked the door and walked over to his bed, keeping his eyes on the floor and not replying.

“Dude, you okay? You’re redder than a tomato.”

Pete’s voice made Patrick look up instinctively, which was a mistake because neither Pete not Mystery Groupie From Hell were wearing clothes. They were covered from the waist down by a blanket but _still._ That should be _him_. Wait, what? That’s gay.

He blushed even more, if that were possible, and glared at Pete before grabbing his jacket.

“I’m staying with Joe and Andy. Goodnight,” he snapped bitterly before storming out the door.

He really wished he wasn’t the kind of person who started tearing up whenever he was in an argument because it was making him even less intimidating than he already was.

He knocked loudly on Joe and Andy’s door, wiping at his eyes. Joe opened it, and his smile faded as soon as he saw the pained look on Patrick’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling Patrick inside.

Andy was laying down on the bed but sat up as soon as Patrick came in.

“What happened, Patrick?”

Patrick sat on the couch and looked at his hands nervously. “Pete is being a dick again.”

The two other men looked at each other. This wasn’t new. Pete had a habit of not thinking about what he said, and Patrick was especially sensitive to it since he looked up to the bassist so much.

“That sucks…” Joe comforted. “What did he do?”

Patrick rested his chin on the back of the couch and glanced at them. “Brought back a groupie. I hate it when he does that.”

Joe and Andy shared another look, but Patrick couldn’t identify it. “I’m sorry. That’s just Pete though. You can stay with us tonight because - yeah - that would be awkward.”

“Thanks,” Patrick mumbled and laid down on the couch, curling up and trying to get to sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to think or hurt anymore.

“Goodnight, you guys,” Joe said as he turned out the lights.

“Goodnight,” Patrick and Andy said in unison.

***

Patrick had almost fallen completely asleep when there came a loud banging at the door.

Joe turned the lights back on and braced his arm on the door to keep whoever it was from coming in. Patrick was too tired to care about the visitor so he pulled the blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and pulled it over himself, hiding his face in the rough fabric.

“Where’s the kid, Joe?” Pete’s voice said. “I need to talk to him.”

“No,” Joe replied as Patrick lifted his head. “You’re being an ass. You know how he feels about you.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“So? Can I not have sex now because ‘Trick’s got a crush?”

Patrick sat up and frowned. “I do not!”

“Shit, thought he was asleep…” Joe said sheepishly.

“ I-I don’t…” Patrick repeated as defiantly as he could, even though he was starting to question it himself. Were they right? No, of course not. He couldn’t be gay.

Andy got up and sat next to Patrick. “Well, only you know for sure, but it sounds like-”

Patrick cut him off. “I don’t! I don’t like him, and I don’t like boys!”

They were all taken aback by Patrick’s outburst, and no one said anything for a few seconds until Joe broke the silence. “Either way, don't be a dick to Patrick.”

“Let me talk to him. Give me five minutes.”

Joe sighed and dropped his arm, letting Pete inside. “Five minutes, that's all.”

Pete nodded and moved to sit beside Patrick, who turned away and glared at the wall, still mad at him for before.

“C’mon, Tricky. Don’t be like that.”

Patrick spun around to face him. “Be like what? Would you rather me just watch while you fuck some whore? Well _sorry_ I don’t want to watch you fuck someone else! Sorry I get jealous every time you kiss someone or fuck someone because I want it to be me! Sorry I-” Patrick went pale and cut himself off, realizing that _oh_ that was not the thing to say here.

Pete didn’t react at all for a few seconds, just stared at him like he’d lost his mind; then a smirk spread across his face. “Don’t like me, huh?”

Patrick looked down, his face red from embarrassment. “‘m not gay…” He mumbled.

Joe and Andy’s suppressed laughter could be heard, but Patrick was too busy panicking to really care.

“Patrick, can I talk to you back in our room?” Pete said softly, tugging on the younger boy’s hand.

Patrick nodded and got up with Pete, waving sheepishly at Joe and Andy before letting himself be led outside.

“Dude, hate to break it to you but I think you’re a little gay,” Pete said as soon as they closed the door to their room. Patrick was happy to see that Mystery Groupie From Hell was gone now.

“I’m not gay!” Patrick said, sitting down on his bed. “I just s-somtimes want to kiss guys and date them and… not in a gay way, though, you know?”

Pete smiled softly and sat next to him. “Kiddo, that’s not how that works.”

“I can’t be gay. Other people are gay, but not me. Not gay.”

Pete sighed and put his arm around Patrick. “Dude, you’re gay.”

“I’m not gay!”

“But you like guys?” Pete said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re not gay. Would you go out with a guy?”

Patrick nodded. “Y-yeah, depending on who.”

“Would you go out with me?”

Patrick turned even paler than usual and nodded quickly. “Yes! Wait, would I have to be gay to do that?”

“Um, no?” He said, unsure of what else to say. Technically, yeah, Patrick wasn’t straight if he was attracted to guys, but whatever. That was a later problem.

“Then yes. That sounds great, but why me?”

Pete leaned back against the headboard. “Why do I like you?”

Patrick nodded. “You could have anyone. Why me?”

“Because, Patrick,” he started, even though he didn't know how to put any of what he was trying to express into words. “You're just great. You're really different from most people that I've been with because you're not just looking for sex or a story to tell. You're also really cute and funny and I don't know how to say it but, yeah, I like you.”

Patrick blushed and looked down. “I-I…” He stuttered.

Pete frowned and took his hand, pulling him closer. “What's wrong, Pattycakes?”

Patrick shrugged half-heartedly and leaned against the bassist. After a few second’s hesitation, he spoke again. “I'm not nearly as good as what you're used to. I'm not pretty or good in bed or anything like that. Not like that girl earlier; you'd probably be happier with someone like her.”

Pete put his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and shook his head. “I don't want someone who has sex with me but then immediately leaves and tells me I might have just gotten an STD that I should get checked for. I want someone who will hold hands and talk to me and all that couple bullshit you see in the movies.”

Patrick laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Pete’s waist. “I won't argue; I don't think I'm winning anyway.”

Pete grinned and looked down at him. “Thanks, you weren't going to win. Just accept that I like you.”

Patrick yawned and nodded. “Accepted.”

“You tired, Tricky?”

Patrick shook his head but it was obviously not true.

“You should sleep. We might not be able to get another real bed for a while.”

“No,” Patrick argued, nuzzling into Pete’s shoulder. “I‘m comfy here.”

Pete smiled and moved so he was laying down. “What if I stay with you?”

Patrick practically pounced onto Pete again and laid his head down on Pete’s shoulder. “I can settle for this.”

“There's a real pillow, y’know,” Pete stated, stroking Patrick’s messy hair out of habit. “You don't have to use me like in the van.”

Patrick yawned and closed his eyes. “You're more comfortable, though, and warmer, and I can feel you breathing.”

Pete didn't push farther, at least he was sleeping now.

“Sleep well, Trick.”


	2. Ryden - Misunderstandings And Miscommunications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon, stressed out by a song that he just can't seem to get right, goes to Ryan's in the hopes that a change of scenery might help. When Ryan gets home and sees Brendon so stressed, he offers to distract him. Needless to say, Brendon gets the wrong (but really very right) idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this your official smut warning.

Ryan wasn’t surprised when he came home to find Brendon sitting on his couch. It wasn’t the first time - and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time - that he’d crashed at Ryan’s place. It had started out as just a night here and there while they’d been working on A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out when he’d just needed to get out of his own house. By now though, Ryan was pretty sure Brendon spent more time in his place than he did his own. What  _ did _ surprise him though, was the fact that Brendon was hunched over a laptop with his head in his hands, muttering quietly to himself.

“Bren?” he called out as he walked into the living room. “Are you okay?”

Brendon whipped his head around to look at him, a hectic look in his eyes.

“Stupid fucking song, I can’t get it to sound right, but I can’t figure out why,” he muttered, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “I don’t know how you do this shit so easily.”

“ _ Relax,  _ B,” Ryan told him, coming over to sit down next to him. “You’ll make yourself crazy if you spend hours just staring at it. How long have you been working on it?”

“Too long,” he shook his head slowly. “Not long enough. I don’t know-”

“Brendon, shut up,” he laughed softly. “Those aren’t numbers. How long have you been sitting here working on this?”

“Um…” he moved his hand in the air, trying to do his best to sort through the day. “Well, I read over the lyrics once at home and realized it flowed all wrong… But I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I came over here for a change of scenery. You seriously need to learn to hide your spare key better, by the way. I mean, seriously? Under the doormat? It’s so obvious.”

“Why do you think I put it there?” Ryan grinned. “You’ve got to be able to break into my house  _ somehow _ . Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t just taken the key as your own.”

“Yeah, but then what would you do every time you lose  _ your _ key?” He shot back. “But anyways… I probably got here around lunchtime, but I wasn’t hungry so I didn’t take any of your food. Not that there was any to take in the first place; I looked. But you’re welcome for not taking your last packet of microwave mac and cheese. And yeah, I’ve been sitting here ever since.”

“You’re going to make yourself crazy, and  _ then _ how are you ever going to finish the song?” He asked, taking the laptop from him and setting it down on the table next to the couch.

“I’m going to make myself crazy if I  _ don’t _ work on it,” Brendon protested, reaching for the laptop, but before he could set it back down on his lap, Ryan moved so that he was using Brendon’s lap as a pillow.

“Nope,” Ryan shook his head. “I’m laying here now, and seriously, if you set a laptop on my head, you’re going to have bigger problems than an unfinished song.”

Logically, Brendon knew that Ryan was right, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that if he just went over it one more time, he’d figure out what was missing. He knew it wasn’t the melody itself - they’d all agreed that it was fine and going to be on the album - but he just felt like there was something not quite right with the lyrics.

“You’re still thinking about it,” Ryan stated, looking up at his concentrated, far-away face.

“No I’m not,” he said too quickly.

Ryan raised his eyebrows, eliciting a half-hearted glare from Brendon.

“Okay,  _ you _ ,” Ryan pinched Brendon’s leg when he saw his attention start to drift away again. “Are going to stop worrying about this.”

“But-”

“And  _ I _ ,” he interrupted his protests, playing absentmindedly with Brendon’s hands. “Am going to help you relax.”

“I-” Brendon cut  _ himself _ off this time, his face flushing red. “ _ What _ ?”

“What?” Ryan asked, looking up at him with confusion in his eyes.

“I-I mean- I-I like you too- But, like- I don’t think- I-” his words came out in a stuttered, disjointed mess, and it took Ryan a few seconds to figure out what he actually meant, bursting out in laughter when it finally clicked.

“What?” Now it was Brendon’s turn to be confused. “I-”

“ _ Oh _ ,” his eyes went wide when I realized why Ryan was laughing. “I, uh…”

“I meant I was going to give you a massage, not sit on your dick,” Ryan managed to gasp out between bouts of laughter.

“Oh god,” Brendon’s face was even redder now than it had been before. “I, um… Uh… Sorry. I didn’t- I mean, I don’t- Um…”

“Brendon, it’s-”

“No, it’s- I can’t- I’ll just- Sorry,” he stammered out, pushing himself off the couch and practically running away.

By the time Ryan could comprehend what had just happened enough to call after him, he was already gone. It didn’t seem to occur to Brendon that he wasn’t in his house when he ran away and locked himself inside Ryan’s bedroom, just trying to get away as fast as he could. Ryan stayed sprawled out on the couch for a while, trying to figure out what to say. He shouldn’t have laughed; he knew that. Brendon had just taken him by surprise. It wasn’t that Ryan didn’t like him back, because he really,  _ really _ did. He just hadn’t expected the conversation to go down that way. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just fucked everything up for good. He shouldn’t have laughed.

“Brendon?” Ryan called softly as he stood outside the door, shifting back and forth from foot to foot.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” his reply was muffled through the door.

“Well, you’re kind of hiding from me in my own house, so we’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed,” Ryan tried again. “I’m sorry. It was kind of a dick move. You just took me by surprise.”

“Brendon?” He called again when there was no reply. “Look, can you just let me in? Can we talk about this?”

Ryan heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the door, and then that of it being unlocked. He waited a few seconds before pushing the door open slowly and walking in. Brendon was sitting on the floor, his back up against the side of the bed and his arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them in close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon mumbled as Ryan closed the door behind him.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head and sat down next to him. “I’m sorry I laughed.”

“It’s okay,” he told him, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“No it’s not, B,” Ryan reached out to put his hand on top of his. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he asked. “That I thought you wanted to, as you so gracefully put it, sit on my dick? That I actually  _ wanted _ you to?”

“That you like me too,” he supplied.

“Yeah, I-” Brendon stopped, realization dawning on his face. “Too?”

“Too,” he nodded, meeting Brendon’s eyes for the first time that whole conversation.

“You…” Brendon’s voice trailed off. “ _ Really _ ?”

He nodded in response.

“I can’t believe you actually let me run off thinking I fucked this up, you ass!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain!” Ryan argued, grinning.

“Because you made it sound like there wasn’t any explaining to  _ do _ !”

“Well  _ excuse me _ for not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just because I offered you a massage. I mean, come on. I know I give good massages, but they’re not  _ that _ good.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Brendon told him, leaning over to kiss him.

“You know,” Ryan pulled away just a few seconds later. “Insulting me really isn’t the best way to get what you want.”

“And just what exactly are you so sure that I want?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryan rolled his eyes and made a noncommittal noise, moving forward to continue their kiss. It didn’t take long for Brendon to start licking at Ryan’s bottom lip, and Ryan parted his lips, inhaling sharply and reaching up to tangle his fingers in Brendon’s hair. Ryan didn’t notice himself slowly being pushed down until he felt his back against the floor and Brendon moving to straddle his hips. He grinded down on him and Ryan let out a moan, the bulge in his pants getting harder to ignore.

“Brendon,” he breathed.

“Bren,” he tried again, pulling away from his persistent kiss. “As much as I don’t want to stop, we should really not do this on the floor.”

Brendon nodded, his eyes dark, and stood up, reaching down to help Ryan up before pushing him backwards onto the bed. He slid his hands under Ryan’s shirt, leaving goosebumps where his fingers brushed his skin, before pulling the fabric up over his head and tossing it away. He tugged off his own shirt before attaching his lips to Ryan’s collarbone, biting and sucking until there was a decently sized red mark there that wouldn’t be going away any time soon. Ryan grabbed Brendon’s ass through his jeans, eliciting a small gasp, and brought their lips together, moving in time with each other.

They stayed like that for a while - Brendon hard against Ryan’s thigh, his own leg fitted between Ryan’s, giving him just the right kind of friction - before Ryan just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Brendon,” he gasped. “Please.”

He listened, his hands moving down Ryan’s body, agonizingly slow. Brendon palmed him through his jeans before unzipping them and sliding them down his legs until he was left in just his boxers. Ryan ran his hands up the sides of Brendon’s thighs before undoing the button on his pants and pulling them off as well.

His fingers teased at the elastic of Ryan’s boxers, only slipping them off when Ryan put his hands on top of his and guided him.

“Are you sure?” Brendon asked him once they were both naked.

“God yes,” he answered breathlessly.

Brendon wrapped his hand around Ryan’s cock and stroked him until he was completely hard, before moving to put his lips around him, hollowing out his cheeks as he sunk down on him. Ryan moaned, his head falling back against one of the pillows.

“Brendon,” he groaned as his tongue swirled around his sensitive tip. “Please. I can’t- I just-”

Brendon pulled off, knowing that if he didn’t, Ryan would come before either of them wanted him to, and kissed him, the taste of precome still on his tongue. Ryan slowly moved his palm up and down the length of Brendon’s dick, occasionally swiping his thumb over the tip, as they kissed. He couldn’t help but smile at the incoherent things Brendon moaned into his mouth, knowing that it was all because of him.

“Do you have lube?” Brendon asked when he finally pulled away. “I want to fuck you.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, reaching over to the drawer in his bedside table and pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. “Here.”

Brendon squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and pushed one inside of Ryan, causing him to breathe sharply into Brendon’s mouth at the unexpected intrusion.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping.

“I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting it,” he answered.

“You can keep going, you know,” Ryan continued when Brendon still wasn’t moving. “I have  _ done _ this before, I won’t break.”

“Right, sorry,” he laughed, adding a second finger.

A second quickly became a third, his fingers brushing against the bundle of nerves that made him squirm underneath him.

“Brendon,” he gasped, his back arching. “Please.”

He pulled his fingers out and Ryan whimpered at the loss, clenching down on nothing while Brendon rolled on the condom and poured out more lube. He trailed kisses down Ryan’s chest before lining himself up and slowly pushing in, Ryan’s mouth going slack and his eyes closing.

“Move,” he said once Brendon was all the way in and had stopped to give him a second to adjust. “For fuck’s sake, please.  _ Move _ .”

He pulled out and pushed back in, his thrusts getting faster and harder as he felt Ryan relaxing around him.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Ryan cried when he hit his prostate and tightened around him, earning a moan from Brendon. “God, Brendon, fuck.”

“You feel so good,” Brendon said, wrapping his hand around Ryan’s throbbing cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts.

Ryan groaned and bucked up into his hand, his fingers dragging down Brendon’s back.

“Shit, Ryan,” he said. “I can’t- I’m gonna-”

Ryan felt him start to lose rhythm and knew he was just as close as he was. He thrust in one last time, hitting Ryan’s prostate before completely falling apart seconds before Ryan. They both cried out, shaking, their knees weak. When Ryan opened his eyes, he saw his come streaking Brendon’s toned stomach and smeared across his fingers. Brendon pulled out of him and threw away the used condom in the trash bin next to the bed.

“Ew,” Ryan laughed when Brendon used a tissue to wipe the residue off of himself.

“Dude, shut up,” he elbowed his side playfully. “It’s  _ yours _ .”

“Ew,” he said again.

Brendon rolled his eyes and laid down next to him, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Wow, you’re so great at the whole pillowtalk thing,” he teased “Oh, shut up.”

They laid like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, before Brendon moved to pull away. Ryan grabbed his arm though, stopping him.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“To go fix the song,” he answered. “You gave me an idea.”

“Brendon, I swear to god, if you leave,” he threatened, not really serious.

“But if I forget-”

“Just tell me,” he interrupted. “One of us is  _ bound  _ to remember.”

“It’s the first verse,” Brendon said. “It’s all wrong.”

“So what’s your idea?” He asked, turning to look at him, their noses a hairsbreadth away from each other.

“Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do, and nothing really mattered except for me to be with you,” he sang quietly, his voice following the same melody as the one it had before, but the words completely different. “But in time we all forgot and we all grew.”

Ryan understood now what Brendon had meant about the original words not fitting. They’d seemed fine at the time, but these made a lot more sense, matching the theme of the song much better.

“Bren, that’s really good,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Really?” He looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Definitely,” he nodded. “Should I be worried though?”

“What do you mean?” Confusion flickered across his face.

“That wasn’t exactly the most  _ reassuring _ thing to hear from the person I just had sex with,” he laughed.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah, no, you don’t have to be worried. I just think of things at really inconvenient moments,” he smiled. “Like that one time when-”

“Brendon,” he grinned. “I know. You don’t have to explain, it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“You’re pretty great, you know that?” Brendon muttered into Ryan’s shoulder.

“Yeah? Well, you’re pretty great, yourself,” he told him. “I’m glad you misinterpreted my intentions.”

“Me too.”


	3. Frerard - Bubble Baths Cure All Ills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard takes bubble baths whenever he's stressed, and when Frank comes in later and finds him asleep in the bath, some serious cuddling ensues.

Gerard rubbed his eyes wearily, a tired sigh quickly turning into a yawn. He was getting too old for this. He wasn’t sure exactly what the ‘this’ in question  _ was _ , per say, but he was definitely getting too old for it. His muscles protested as he stretched and leaned back in his chair, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and neck as a reminder of just how long he’d been sitting. He made a mental note to ask Frank for a massage later, before turning back to his computer and slouching into the exact position that he’d been in before.

He felt like every single thing in the room was distracting him. The rattling noise that the AC made every once in awhile, the one book that was significantly taller than all of the others on the shelf on the wall, the dust gathering on his lamp, the carpet felt under his feet, the fact that his shoulders  _ still fucking hurt _ . In all the time that he’d been sitting there, he’d barely gotten anything done, and he was close to just giving up. He knew that once he got to this point in being distracted there wasn’t much he could do other than take a break and come back later, but he couldn’t help but feel like what he needed was right in the front of his mind if he would just think hard enough.

When he still hadn’t thought of anything ten minutes later, he closed the laptop and stood up. Sitting there staring at the blank screen was just pointless, and he knew it. He walked around the house a few times trying to figure out what to do before settling on just taking a bath. Those were supposed to be relaxing, right?

Once he’d filled up the tub and stepped in, the water was almost painfully hot, bubbles creeping up his shins. Yes, he was a fully grown adult taking a bubble bath. Get over it. He felt the tension in his shoulder slowly start to fade away as soon as he laid down in the water, his muscles relaxing in the warmth. Baths were definitely a thing that needed to happen more often, he decided.

It wasn’t long before Gerard could feel himself drifting off, the warmth of the water and the vague smell of lavender lulling him to sleep.

***

When he awoke, it wasn’t to the peaceful silence that had filled the room before, but rather to the sound of a soft laugh. He opened his eyes slowly to see Frank leaning against the sink, a toothbrush in his hand and a smile on his face.

“What?” Gerard asked tiredly, still half asleep.

This only made him laugh even harder.

“Shut up,” Gerard scowled half-heartedly, a small smile building on his face.

“You’re adorable.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, his smile growing.

“There’s plenty of room in here, you know,” Gerard told him a few minutes later when he noticed Frank smiling at him as he brushed his teeth.

“No there’s not,” he shook his head, laughing. “There’s barely room for  _ you _ in that tiny-ass bathtub.”

“Okay, well we can at least pretend like there’s room.”

“Alright,” he shrugged.

A few seconds later, Frank was struggling to climb into the bathtub without crushing Gerard, the two of them laughing and splashing water everyone.

“Ow, God, my leg!” Gerard cried, his eyes squinting as he grinned.

“Well, maybe if you just  _ moved over _ ,” he rolled his eyes in response, nudging Gerard’s side.

“Unless you want me to actually climb the wall, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Just, like…” Frank’s voice trailed off. “Hang on…”

“I think I’m good,” he announced a few seconds later. “You good?”

“I’m good,” he nodded. “I can’t believe you actually climbed in here.”

“I can’t believe we both actually fit.”

“You should’ve told me the water had gone cold before you invited me in,” Frank muttered a few minutes later.

“I’d been asleep,” he deadpanned. “For a while. Were you expecting it to be hot?”

“Well I wasn’t expecting it to be  _ cold _ .”

“How long were you laying here, anyways?” Frank asked a few moments later. “It’s like you put a bunch of fucking ice cubes in here or something.”

“I don’t know. A while,” he answered. “My fingers are all wrinkly.”

Frank caught his hand when he went to wiggle his fingers in front of his face. “You’ve got old man hands.”

“I do  _ not _ have old man hands!” He protested, frowning.

“You totally do,” he argued. “See?” He held up Gerard’s hand for him to look at. “They’re all cute and wrinkled.”

“I don’t have old man hands.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he grinned.

“You know… If you stay in here long enough,” Gerard rested his head on Frank’s shoulder and intertwined their fingers. “You’ll end up with old man hands too.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to sacrifice my youth and good looks then, won’t I?”

“Nah, you’ll be a cute old man,” he shook his head. “With all your tattoos and shit.”

“Right, because wrinkled tattoos and old piercings are the pinnacle of cuteness,” he laughed, looking at Gerard.

“Definitely.”

“See?” He said, grabbing Frank’s other hand and poking one of his fingers. “You’re already going all wrinkly, and you’re definitely still cute.”

“That’s because I’m not old yet.”

“I don’t know…” As mischievous of a grin as he could muster up spread across his face. “You’re not a kid anymore…”

“Oh, shut up,” he splashed water at him, earning him a jab in the side from Gerard’s elbow.

“I love you,” he laughed as an apology.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Hey!” Frank exclaimed a few seconds later when a wave of water was sent his way. “What are you-”

Another splash cut him off.

“Okay, okay!” He surrendered, putting his hands up. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	4. Jalex - The Lie That Keeps Us Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack knows that Alex is stressed, so he decides to step in for a mandatory cuddling session that ends with just a little more than he expected.

Jack watched Alex working from his bunk across from Alex’s. No one else in the band stressed like this during tour, but Alex seemed to stress enough for all of them. While the rest of them were sleeping, drinking, partying, and just hanging out, Alex was usually trying to write or plan future things. Alex still went out and had fun but not as much as he should, in Jack’s opinion. Jack respected his determination, but he wished his best friend would take more time off. Right now, Alex had his headphones in and was working on GarageBand again, like he had been for the past few hours.

“Almost done?” Jack asked, even though he knew the answer. Alex didn’t look up, but he took one headphone out, which was more than Jack usually got when Alex was in these moods.

“No. I got the verse done, but…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, which were red from looking at the screen for too long. “This chorus is killing me. I’ve got the music written, but I can’t come up with any lyrics that match.”

Jack sat up. “Have you looked through your journal? You’ve got tons of lyrics written in there.”

“I tried that. Nothing fits.”

Jack got up and sat next to Alex on his bunk to see what he was doing. “Can I hear what you have?”

“It isn’t any good.”

Jack knew that wasn’t true. Alex was a lot of things, but untalented wasn’t one of them. “You’re just being hard on yourself. It’s probably dope.”

Alex shrugged and handed the computer over to Jack. Jack put the headphones on and pressed play. The music was all electronic now because they hadn’t recorded anything yet but he could hear how it would sound with real instruments and Alex’s amazing vocals. The intro was simple but then increased and layered as it progressed, then just before the chorus it got loud and had an amazing rythm. It was really catchy even without proper production and once they actually recorded it, Jack could tell it would be stuck in his head forever. He took the headphones off and put them down, smiling.

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome.”

Alex’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, totally. It’s great. Will you take a break now?” He asked hopefully.

Alex sighed and put the headphones back on. “I can’t. I need to finish this today, so I don’t forget.”

Jack doubted he could talk Alex out of it because he was a stubborn little bastard, but he seriously needed to take a break. “I’ll remind you later. Please?”

Alex thought for a second but shook his head nevertheless. “I really should finish up first. We can go out for a drink or something after.”

Jack had heard that excuse a thousand times and it wasn’t as if Alex didn’t follow through, but he was never himself when they went out like that. Someone who didn’t know Alex might think he was perfectly fine and happy, but Jack knew that the way he tapped his foot and messed with his hair meant he was stressed and not very happy to be there. The worst part was that Jack just couldn’t help, because he wasn’t nearly talented enough to take Alex’s work for him, so Alex was left to write all of their music and plan their tours and stress over it.

“Why not now?”

Alex gestured to the computer and gave Jack a pleading look. “I’m working,”

“You’ve been working all day though,” he protested. “Just a quick break?”

“No, Jack, not today.” Alex snapped.

Jack fell silent. He didn’t want to make his friend legitimately angry. He watched as Alex’s face softened in remorse like it always did after he lashed out. Alex didn’t have a mean bone in his body. They didn’t say anything again after that though, and maybe that was for the best. Jack watched Alex work on his music. There was something interesting about how he picked each note and word like they each had a special, irreplaceable meaning to him. It wasn’t just sounds to him, it was far more than that, and Jack knew he’d never be able to comprehend the way Alex saw their music.

“Ten minutes?” Jack asked after a while when Alex seemed to be really stuck again.

Alex sighed and clicked a few more buttons on his computer. Was he really just going to ignore him and work? Alex got caught up in work a lot but that was insane. Before Jack’s thoughts could get too far, though, Alex closed the laptop.

“Ten minutes. What are we doing?”

Jack was caught off guard because he hadn’t expected that to actually work. “Oh, um, we could… Watch a movie?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “In ten minutes?”

“Oh,” Jack said, feeling like an idiot. He really didn’t want to spend the whole ten minutes gibbering stupidly. “Just lay down?”

Alex scoffed because, admittedly, it was a pretty lame idea, but what else could they do on a bus in ten minutes? Jack laid down on one side of Alex’s bunk and expected him to lay on the other side, still a good six or seven inches apart, but instead Alex laid down directly beside him, barely even a few centimeters apart.

“Oh,” Jack said again. “Hi?”

Wow, he really sounded like an idiot now.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Hi, stupid. First you want me to lay with you, then you act weird when I do?”

“Something like that, yeah. You’re just… Really close.”

Alex moved closer for the sole purpose of pissing Jack off, until their bodies were pressed together. “Better?”

Jack didn’t reply as he pulled his head back a little to keep his face away from Alex’s. Not that he hadn’t kissed Alex before, but it had always been because they were either high off adrenaline or alcohol - usually both. They’d never kissed just for the hell of it, and Jack didn’t know if he wanted them too. His feelings for Alex were confusing. He felt something for him - there was no denying that - but he couldn’t tell if that was just because Alex was his best friend for his whole life, or if it was something more.

“Why so quiet?” Alex persisted, leaning closer so their lips were almost touching.

Jack was about to pull away, or say something - or do _anything_ , really - but then Alex was kissing him, and holy shit, he was really _kissing_ him. It wasn’t like any of their previous kisses, this felt real. He was kissing his best friend - holy shit - and the worst part was that he liked it. No, he loved it. Alex’s body fit with his perfectly and the kiss felt oddly natural and familiar.

Jack expected Alex to pull away and start laughing at any second, but he didn’t. Minutes ticked by, and the two men were still tangled together, neither wanting the moment to end. Jack’s arms were around Alex, holding him close, and Alex’s were around Jack. They both knew that this wasn’t just a drunk, spur-of-the-moment kind of kiss. Somehow, they could feel what the other was thinking, and when they eventually pulled away, the previous awkward feeling was gone.

“So,” Jack said, smiling. “That happened.”

“It did.” Alex nodded. “Does this change things?”

“Do you want it to?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I really liked you in that way before, but I definitely do now, so…”

Jack could tell Alex was struggling with the decision and he felt bad. “We could try it, and if it doesn’t work, then we go back to just friends. How does that sound?”

Alex kissed him again and Jack hoped that meant yes, but he couldn’t be sure. Alex was impulsive at best, though most would call him just damn reckless. Knowing Alex, this could easily be a one time thing that never happens again, and Jack didn’t want that.

Alex pulled away again - Jack didn’t have the heart to end it - and grinned like this was no big deal to him. “How many minutes has it been?”

Jack shrugged and leaned in to kiss Alex again. He half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. This counted as their third real kiss to Jack. It probably didn’t count as anything to Alex, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He was kissing Alex, and that was what mattered; and Alex wasn’t working so hard anymore.

***

Jack wasn’t sure exactly how long they must have been like that; kissing, cuddling, and doing just about everything besides talking about what was happening. Jack decided then that he was okay with that; not happy about it, but okay. Alex never was his and probably never would be, but this was something similar at least. Like this, Jack could pretend things were normal; like the man he was kissing was his boyfriend and not just his best friend who was bored and horny. He could live with this for now.


	5. Joshler - The First Thing That Comes Into Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Regional At Best Era, centered around the writing of the lyrics to Guns For Hands)
> 
> Tyler has his fair share of bad nights, but he knows that Josh will always be there to help him. And he always is. He has a box of memories that the two of them have shared, and he brings it with him everywhere, pulling it out whenever he knows Tyler needs it. It's always worked, but then, one night in New York, Tyler's in an especially bad place, and the box just doesn't seem to be enough. What Josh doesn't know, though, is that it might have never really been the box that helped in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up and get ready for some angst, kids. (Also, there's some vague talk of suicide and suicidal thoughts in this one, so be careful if that could be a problem for you. I want you all to stay safe.)

Tyler was used to people coming to talk to him and Josh after shows and telling them about everything that they were going through. Well, maybe ‘used to it’ isn’t the right term. That wasn’t something anyone could ever get used to - knowing that there was such a huge number of struggling people out there, and even sometimes being told that you’d somehow helped them through it all. So no, ‘used to it’ isn’t the right term. But it happened enough that he had become accustomed to it. Not that he _expected_ it, per say, but more so that when he heard it, it didn’t make him feel like the world was crushing in on him and putting some horrible weight on his shoulders.

The first time he’d heard it, he knew it was a conversation that he’d never really ever forget. He’d had no idea what to say. When someone comes up to you and tells you that they go through times when they feel like they have nothing left, or that your stories had helped them through their own, it’s the kind of thing that there’s no real response for. Anything that he could say just wasn’t enough, and he knew it. It would never be enough. To know that there were people out there - kids - that felt hopeless enough to believe that there was nothing left for them was something that he could hardly process. To know that something he’d created from his own thoughts was able to help those people get through that the same way that music had helped _him_ … That was something he _definitely_ couldn’t process.

It was fairly early in the year, and they’d been putting the finishing touches on their new album, but Tyler couldn’t shake the feeling that it was missing something. Something other than the title that they still hadn’t come up with, that is. He felt like there was some message that he was trying to get across, but it just wasn’t there. Like he was missing a line, or a verse, or even a whole _song_ . He just knew that there was something that was supposed to be there that wasn’t. It was like his mind had gone dead and had been that way for months - he couldn’t write; he couldn’t even _think_ of something to write. He couldn’t figure out _how_ he was feeling in the first place, let alone how to put it into words.

It wasn’t until a show in Cincinnati that something changed. The show had gone really well; there weren’t a whole lot of people - it was more a barn, really, than anything else - and Tyler was able to forget for a while about everything that had been bugging him. When it was over, a bunch of people came back to meet them, giving smiles and telling stories. But, as the day progressed, more and more people started opening up, their stories more and more personal. The first person was shy, and when they hugged him, there were tears in their eyes. They talked to Tyler for a while, telling him about how they’d struggled with being suicidal, and how music had really helped pull them through all of that. Tyler didn’t know what to do except to thank them for staying alive, and to tell them that he was proud.

After they had left, it seemed to Tyler as if more and more people started to tell their own stories. It seemed as if for every person who came with a smile, two more came with watery eyes and a sad story. His heart fell with every person’s words that he heard, and by the time they’d all gone and he and Josh left, his thoughts were far away.

He didn’t want to accept that there were so many kids out there who felt like that. Sure, people had come up to him and Josh before, but never that many, and never all at once. He wanted to believe that maybe it was some sort of isolated thing - that the ratio of people struggling wasn’t that large.

Again, not too much later, he found himself thinking about that show again. He and Josh were in New York, staying in some cheap motel so that they could play shows, and he’d found a magazine lying around, the title of an article catching his eye. It was about the same sort of thing, the article talking about the number New York high school students who were going through things like the people who had come to talk to him. Again and again, he read stories of people who couldn’t find their purpose, who felt like they had no place - kids who’d done things that would stick with them forever.

It hadn’t been an isolated event, he knew that now. Really, he’d known it before, but now it was just harder to push back in his head. He felt like he _had_ to do something. Logically, he knew there was nothing he _could_ do - there was no way to make something reach every single struggling person out there, or to write something that would resonate with all of them - but he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow this was all on him to fix. He _had_ to do something.

His brain started spinning, full of one-liners and half-thought-of lyrics. There was just so much to say, he didn’t know how to fit it all into one thing. So many thoughts and ideas and messages. How could he possibly condense so many stories and such a huge message into four minutes?

***

“ _Tyler_ ,” Josh’s voice seeped into his conscious, interrupting his scribbling down of words into an old notebook.

“Hmm?” He looked over, their eyes meeting.

“What’s wrong, Ty?”

Tyler knew there was no point in trying to tell him that he was fine. It would’ve worked with anyone else, but somehow Josh had a way of always knowing. Even when Tyler was hiding his emotions behind what must’ve been the equivalent of the Great Wall of China, Josh always knew. Always.

“I don’t know,” he muttered truthfully. “It’s just… I can’t stop _seeing it_.”

“Seeing what?” Josh turned, moving to cross his legs underneath him and looking at Tyler.

“Sadness? I guess? I don’t know,” he shook his head slowly. “The people who come to our shows - especially the ones who stay to talk to us after - I just can’t stop thinking about them. So many of them _understand_ , Josh. the don’t just listen to the music, they _know_ . The words make _sense_ to them. You know? They’ve been through things that no one should have to go through. I don’t… They shouldn’t have to go through that. No one should.”

“But because they understand, you can help them,” Josh said slowly, trying to choose each word carefully. “I know it’s hard to see them hurting, believe me; I can see it too. But because they understand, you’re helping them. Helping them feel like there’s someone else out there who gets it. Helping them feel less alone.”

“But they should never have felt alone in the first place,” he protested. “Think of all the people out there who couldn’t find an outlet for their thoughts, though. The people who… The people like… The ones who just couldn’t do it anymore. The ones who… Like I almost…”

Tyler didn’t have to struggle through the words for Josh to know exactly what he meant. _Like I almost did_. Josh would never forget the first time he’d heard Tyler’s writing - the first time he’d been given a direct glance into his thoughts. He’d never forget the time Tyler told him how bad things really were sometimes. He’d never forget the first time he saw Tyler break down.

“Tyler-” Josh started when he saw his eyes go glassy.

“Life is just too unpredictable. Especially when you feel like that,” he interrupted, shaking his head and blinking back tears. “It’s too easy to hurt yourself. It’s too easy to lose control. Life becomes this, just, this grenade that someone stuck in your hands. Your body becomes a weapon in and of itself. It’s too easy to pull the pin, squeeze the trigger, twist the knife in just the right way. It’s too easy to blow it all up. To just end it.”

“You can’t save everyone, Ty,” Josh said softly.

“But I want to,” he choked out. “I feel like I _have_ to. I can’t just walk around happy when there are so many people out there who aren’t.”

“But you have to.”

“But I _can’t_ ,” his voice broke, face wet with tears.

“How are you supposed to make people feel okay if you don’t feel okay yourself?” Josh asked. “You can’t save everyone if you can’t save yourself, Tyler. And you can’t beat yourself up when someone slips through your fingers. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to yourself.”

“I can’t save me if I can’t save them, Josh,” he whispered. “They’re all so sad, and I don’t know how to stop seeing it. And no one ever says anything to anyone. They just sit there. They sit there with a loaded gun in their hands, making a mental list of pros and cons for the rest of their life. They can’t see themselves in the future, so they think they don’t have one. They think they don’t _want_ one. _And I know what that’s like_. How am I supposed to sit here pretending everything's okay when there are so many people out there with hundreds more cons than they have pros, just because they can’t see how great things could be one day? How am I supposed to sit here while another person pulls a trigger because they can’t find something to live for?”

“You’re not,” he told him.

“What?” Tyler’s brow furrowed in confusion - none of this was making any sense; Josh kept contradicting himself.

“You’re not just supposed to sit here,” he said. “You’re supposed to get up and walk around. You’re supposed to go out and find something beautiful, and hold onto it forever. Because not everything in the world is bad. You’re supposed to channel all of this into something. You’re supposed to write. You’re supposed to sing. We’re supposed to help as many people as we can. Together. And it’s okay if we can’t help everyone. Because we’re just human. Just like everyone else out there. But it’s a cycle. Just like music helped us, we’ll help others, and they’ll help others, and it’ll go on and on and on. And maybe one day people won’t _need_ help, but they’ll still keep creating because that’s what people do. And all because of you, and me, and the people at the shows, and everyone out there who kept on living.”

Tyler curled up into Josh’s side and pressed his face into his shoulder, tears still falling from his eyes. He flipped through the pages in his notebook until he came to the one he’d been writing on when Josh had walked in, handing it over for him to read.

“I did write,” Tyler told him as Josh took it from him.

Josh read over the scribbled words, written more like a story than a song, but in such a way that he could still tell that they were lyrics.

_I know what you think in the morning when the sun shines on the ground and shows what you have done. You swear to your parents that it’ll never happen again, but I know what that means. You have plans to take it and end it - don’t take it. I’m trying to sleep, but I can’t when you all have guns for hands._

_There’s hope out the window, so it’s where we’ll go - go outside and all join hands. The sun sets and upsets what’s left of my interest. I see a whole room of these mutant kids, fused at the wrist. They should turn their guns to a fist._

“I need to edit it obviously if it’s ever going to be anything useful, but…” Tyler let his voice trail off.

“Tyler, it’s beautiful.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough. They’re just words, Josh. They’re not even lyrics. Just words.”

“Tyler,” he sighed, reaching over and pulling out a box that Tyler had seen a thousand times. “Look at this.”

Tyler knew exactly what was going to be in the box when Josh unclasped it. He’d seen it all time and time again. It was a box of memories. It was all of the good times in one place. And Josh would look through it with him every time he was having a bad night. It was a way for him to smile again.

Sure enough, a few moments later, Josh handed Tyler a worn picture of the crowd at one of their shows. It had been one of the smallest shows that they’d played recently - barely fifty people - but they were all smiling up at the camera that Tyler remembered holding as if it had been yesterday.

“Look at what your ‘just words’ do,” Josh said. “Every single person standing there is smiling. Every single one of them. Okay? So they might be just words, but if they can do something like that, that makes them worth a lot more than just empty air. Words mean something. They mean something big. Something important.”

Josh pulled out some of the other pictures in the box. The two of them smiling on a small stage, taken by someone in the crowd. One that Josh had taken of Tyler leaning against a wall, grinning at him. The two of them in those awkward matching hoodies that they’d bought as a joke...kind of.

“Words made all of this possible,” Josh told him, resting his head against Tyler’s.

“I know,” his voice came out small, and even though he’d stopped crying, he still felt seconds away from starting up again. “I just feel like there’s so much more that I should be doing.”

Josh pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him like he could somehow hold him together - somehow keep him from falling apart. “You’re doing plenty just by being here.”

“How do you always know what to say?” Tyler asked, smiling tearfully up at him.

“I don’t,” he answered honestly. “I just think and then say it. Half the time it doesn't even make sense in my head, it just seems like the right thing to say.”

“That's what it's like for me when I'm writing,” Tyler nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “You just tend to make a lot more sense.”

“I just say the first things I think of,” he shrugged. “It gives me less time to overthink everything.”

“That sounds like something I should do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I overthink everything. It would be nice not to for a change.”

“Okay,” Josh smiled. “So what are you thinking?”

He thought for a moment, trying to find something worth voicing.

“I don't-”

“You're thinking too much,” he told him. “Don't worry about whether it'll make sense. Just say it.”

“You have dirt on your cheek,” he smiled when he noticed the small streak just below his cheekbone.

“O-okay?” Josh laughed, reaching up to where Tyler was pointing so that he could wipe it away. “Not really what I was expecting, but okay.”

“What _were_ you expecting?” He asked.

“I don’t know, something deep and meaningful,” he grinned.

“Not everything in my head is life-changing, you dork.”

Tyler reached up to fix a piece of Josh’s hair that had fallen out of place.

“It wasn’t where it was supposed to be,” Tyler told him when he saw his questioning look.

They just sat like that for a few minutes before Tyler broke the silence.

“It’s not actually the box that helps,” he muttered, looking down at the old pictures that they’d passed back and forth so many times.

“What?” Josh looked at him, confused - the box had _always_ seemed to help.

“I mean, I guess technically it _is_ the box because it was your idea and it’s always you who looks through it all with me and most of the memories are memories with you, but it’s never been the pictures that help. It’s you. _You’re_ my best memory. No box. No pictures. Just you.”

“Ty-” he cut himself off.

“First thing that comes into my head, right?” Josh asked a few moments later.

“Right,” he nodded.

“I-” he stopped again. “I love you.”

Tyler breathed in sharply, but before he could say anything back, Josh started talking again.

“But not just like you’re my best friend,” he said. “I mean...I _do_ love you like that. You’re my bandmate. You’re my best friend. But…I love you like more than that too. And I-I’m sorry.”

“First thing that comes into my head?” Tyler asked him softly, his heart breaking when he saw how sad he looked.

“Yeah,” his voice was barely audible.

“I love you too.”


	6. Jalex - A Terrible Idea Gone Horribly Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is...well...loud. And Jack knows it, but Alex refuses to believe him. So Jack offers him a challenge: if he can make it through a live, on-air radio interview without making a sound while he gets him off, Alex wins. If he can't...well...if he can't, their secret's out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kind of low-key smutty. Consider yourselves warned.

Alex was still in his pajamas when Jack walked into their shared bedroom to check if he was ready. The older man was laying on the bed in sweatpants, eyes closed, but not quite asleep. 

“Alex, wake up. We've got an interview in, like, twenty minutes,” he said, nudging his boyfriend’s side gently. Alex groaned and rolled onto his side to get away from Jack, but made no signs of consciousness besides that.

“Babe,” Jack sighed. “Move. Get dressed. I'll even make you an espresso if you do.”

Alex opened one eye, but closed it again soon after and yawned. Jack sighed and went back to nudging his side to try and get him up.

After a few moments of wriggling and groaning in discomfort from Jack’s constant prodding, Alex sat up and glared at him.

“You're mean. I was sleeping,” he managed to get out a few words before being cut off by another yawn.

“We have an interview, now get dressed and stuff. I'll go make your coffee.”

Alex practically fell forward into Jack and pressed their lips together a little too hard. Jack pulled away after a few seconds and made a lazy attempt at fixing his boyfriend's messy hair. “Make sure you remember to brush your teeth,” he said before he got up to get Alex his coffee.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He called after Jack.

The younger man laughed and turned back to make sure Alex was still up. “Oh nothing, just get dressed.”

***

“By the way,” Jack said as he got into the Uber they were taking to where their interview was. “We can't have sex when the AC is down anymore.”

Alex - now dressed in jeans and one of Jack’s shirts - quickly checked that the old woman driving had the right address. It was a radio interview so they didn't need to put a lot of effort into how they looked, which was good because it was the only reason they weren't running late.

“Why the hell not?” He asked as he sat down.

Jack looked out the window and continued the conversation casually, “You're pretty loud. When the air is dead the neighbors can kind of hear. Lexi mentioned it this morning while you were getting dressed.”

“I am not loud!” Alex shrieked.

Jack laughed and rolled his eyes. “You kind of are. You start moaning the second anything even  _ brushes _ your dick.”

By this point the elderly woman driving looked terrified of the couple in the back, but they neither noticed nor cared.

“I can be quiet when I want! I just… I just don't want to, ever, so you wouldn’t know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being loud, it just can be heard through the wall when there’s no background noise. It’s not like you’re  _ screaming _ , you just... It’s no big deal.” Jack said, taking Alex’s hand.

“No, I’m proving this point to you,” Alex argued.

Jack sighed, knowing Alex was too stubborn to let this point go. “Fine, whatever, you can prove it once we get home.”

Alex shook his head. “No way. I’m upping the stakes so you always remember that I was right about this. Jerk me off while we’re on the radio.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and looked back at him, figuring he had to be kidding. “Dude, what the fuck? No. Especially seeing as people don’t know that we’re a thing. You’re going to moan or something, and how will we explain that?”

Alex glared at him and Jack realized he was completely serious. “It doesn’t matter because I can be quiet. You’re just scared I’ll win.”

Jack sighed and, maybe it was just that it was still early and he was tried but found himself agreeing. “Fine, if you whine or something we can say you kicked the desk, I guess. You better be fucking quiet though.”

***

“Thanks for waiting, guys.” The man hosting the radio show said into the microphone once they went live. The couple sat across an island table from the man and the only window was behind the man, so no one could possibly tell what they were doing under the table, but that didn’t stop Jack’s heart from racing. “We’re all honored to have Alex Gaskarth and Jack Barakat from All Time Low with us today. How are you guys doing?”

“Good, and thank you for having us,” Alex said politely.

“So your latest album, Future Hearts, came out in 2015. Are you guys putting out anything new soon?”

Jack took Alex’s hand under the table. “Yeah, we’re recording some new stuff right now actually. We’re not allowed to say more than that yet, but we’ll be releasing some singles soon which is really exciting.”

“Do you guys have a favorite song off that album?”

They glanced at each other for a second to silently decide who would answer first.

“I wouldn’t say I have a definite favorite,” Alex answered thoughtfully. “Missing You has one of my favorite messages though. It’s a message I’ve always wanted to give to as many people as possible because I think that idea that you’ve just got to keep fighting even when things seem impossible is something that can’t be said enough.”

The host nodded and looked to Jack, expecting a response. “Yeah, same for me about not having a real favorite. Runaways is a really fun song and it just makes you want to dance around your bedroom and sing at the top of your lungs. I love the feeling that song has.”

“How do you stay entertained during tour?”

Alex pulled Jack’s hand onto his thigh, reminding him of their agreement from the car ride there.

“A-a lot of stuff,” Jack stuttered. “It’s usually just the four of us, so we get pretty sick of each other sometimes but they’re, like, my best friends, so pretty much anything can be fun. We spend a lot of time talking, playing cards, drinking, singing along to the radio, really just anything.”

He was trying to lose himself in talking instead of focusing on the way Alex was slowly pulling his hand further up his thigh, but it wasn’t working very well because he could feel the way Alex’s leg was bouncing in anticipation under his hand, and how his hips twitched when his hand got to the zipper of his skinny jeans.

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy to make everything into a game, and you find a lot of ways to stay entertained,” Alex said just as he pushes jack’s hand against the barely noticeable bulge in his jeans.

“Is it hard to be in relationships while on tour?”

Alex answered before Jack could, mainly because Jack was distracted by fumbling with Alex’s zipper. “It depends on who the person is. Sometimes it's really hard because some people have trouble with the separation and stuff, but the really great relationships work out.”

Jack just nodded in reply and stopped moving his hand, praying for a natural disaster to hit within the next few seconds so he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of the moment when Alex inevitably  _ did  _ give them away.

“What's the most interesting moment that's ever happened on tour?”

Jack answered before Alex, trying to create any sort of distraction. “Tour is really fun all the time, but I'd have to say it was the time Rian passed out right before we were supposed to leave, and we all thought he was dying. We drove him to the hospital and everything, but it turns out he was just really drunk. That was pretty terrifying because we were all convinced we’d just lost our drummer.”

Alex laughed at the memory but kept adjusting his jeans. It took him a second because they were both sat on pretty unsteady stools, but he managed to get his pants down enough to push Jack’s hand onto his dick.

Jack almost yelped in surprise because a dick in your hand without warning is  _ not _ something anyone is ever prepared for. He looked over at Alex, who shot him a desperate glance that Jack could tell meant ‘jerk me off you fucker, or you don't get sex for a month.’

“How did people react when you said your plan in life was music?”

Alex kicked Jack under the table before answering. “The band started when we were still in high school, so most people just thought we would give it up.”

Jack sighed and started stroking him as slowly as he could, trying to keep him from making any noise.

“Yeah,” Jack continued. “Pretty much everyone thought we were going to give up and get ‘real jobs.’ It didn't really phase us though because we all knew this is what we were going to do. I don't really think any of us had a backup plan, which, looking back, wasn't our best plan, but it got us here so I guess it worked.

Alex managed to maintain himself for a few seconds before reaching over and gripping Jack’s thigh to keep himself from making noise.

***

Jack had convinced himself that even if Alex  _ did _ make some sort of noise, it would most likely be a barely audible whimper that they could find some sort of excuse for. Unfortunately, that was not the case at  _ all _ . After a few more questions, Alex was unbearably close and lost pretty much all control of his body. “Holy fuck, keep going,” he whined without thinking.

Jack cursed and pulled his hand away, trying to think of a good excuse. The audio cut, which was probably a good thing for them. Alex was bright red, and Jack couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment, arousal, or how fast he had done his jeans back up. 

“Sorry, uh, water break,” Alex mumbled before taking off his headphones and practically hauling Jack out the door and into the bathroom down the hall.

They were crammed into a single-person stall and Alex was glaring at Jack half-heartedly.

“Dude, you can’t blame me for this,” Jack said, putting his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not. Just fucking get me off, okay? I don’t care about that,” Alex muttered, hands clawing at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Forgot about that.”

***

“So are you two an official couple now?” A reporter asked from the other side of the rope. After the radio incident, it had only seemed right to just be honest. That had been about a month ago and people were still freaking out. It was nice though. They could go on dates now, and kiss in public. Not having to lie anymore was probably the best part of all of it.

“Yeah,” Alex said quickly into the microphone they held out. “It's official.”

They kept walking, hand-in-hand, up to the theater where some music awards were being held. They posed for a few photos but besides that pretty much ignored all the press.

“Are you happy about this?” Jack asked softly enough that no one else could hear.

“People knowing about us?” The chaos lessened as soon as they were inside. “I'm really happy about it.”

“And the way we did it?” He continued, taking a drink off the table.

“It wasn't how I pictured it at all but I'm happy about that too. I highly doubt we will be invited back to that station any time though.”

“Probably not. Worth it?”

Alex smiled and kissed him, ignoring the camera flashes as soon as their lips touched. He pulled away after a few seconds and nodded. “Worth it.”


	7. Ryden - Contrary To Popular Belief, Mornings Really Are The Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has always been an early riser, and he's never really needed that much sleep. He goes to bed late and wakes up early. It's just his thing. But once he and Brendon started dating, and then moved in together, he's found it harder and harder to pull himself out of Brendon's arms in the morning, and, instead, has developed the habit of laying there with him until he ends up falling back to sleep. Besides, he gets extra cuddle time this way, AND he gets woken up with kisses.

Ryan woke up at around seven when the sunlight began to pour in through the open window across from his and Brendon’s bed. He’d always been someone who woke up early, tending to wake up as soon as the sun did. Admittedly, there were some days when he slept until well past noon, but everyone had days like that; his just didn’t happen very often. He’d always found mornings peaceful, in a tired sort of way. New beginnings or some kind of deep, philosophical shit. Once he and Brendon had gotten together, though, his idea of a “typical morning” changed completely, and it didn’t take long at all for mornings to become one of his favorite times of the day.

See, Brendon was someone who hardly ever woke up before noon, and he had this wonderful habit of being the _cuddliest_ human being that Ryan had ever met, which - although he definitely wasn’t complaining - made it pretty difficult for him to get out of bed without waking him. At first, when Ryan woke up, he would always try to untangle himself from Brendon’s arms, but, after a while, he gave up and just accepted his fate of never leaving.

Brendon’s arms were wrapped around Ryan’s middle tightly, and after a while, his restless body began itching to pull away and go do something. But when Brendon made a soft noise in his sleep and tightened his arms, pulling the older boy closer, Ryan just couldn't bring himself to wake him, and even less so to leave him. Brendon hated sleeping alone - said it gave him nightmares - so Ryan found himself trying once again, trying to fall back to sleep just to pass the time until his boyfriend finally woke up.

The light coming through the window was warm, and as Ryan moved slightly under the blanket, his whole body felt light and warm. He could feel Brendon’s chest rising and falling slowly against his back, and he snuggled back even closer, relaxing against Brendon’s sleeping form. This right here was why mornings had quickly become Ryan’s favorite - the sunlight against his skin, Brendon’s arms pulled tight around him, intertwined legs. He fell asleep in Brendon’s arms and he woke up still wrapped in them. There was really nothing better. Well...except for actually _sleeping with_ Brendon. And maybe weed. But cuddling was definitely pretty high up on the list of things that Ryan loved.

Despite the fact that he wasn’t the least bit tired, he felt his eyelids start to droop shut slightly after lying there for a while. With the warm sun shining down on him, the small sounds Brendon made in his sleep, and such a comfortable bed, he’d really never stood a chance at not falling back to sleep. Honestly, if his body didn’t need things like food and water, he could probably stay curled up in bed with Brendon forever. As it was, he figured a few more hours couldn’t hurt, and slowly let his eyes fall shut completely, happy in his state of blissful contentment.

***

When Brendon woke up, his whole body was tangled around Ryan’s. His arms were wrapped around the older boy, and their legs were intertwined. He could feel Ryan’s hair on his cheek, tickling him. His eyes were closed, deep in his sleep, and his steady breaths were the only sound in the quiet room. Brendon always woke up before Ryan did, and he would never admit it outright, but mornings were probably one of his favorite times of the day because of it. Sure, he was half asleep and needed coffee like he needed air to breathe, but Ryan was right there next to him, looking as adorable as ever, and he just couldn’t help but smile. Waking up next to Ryan every morning was a daily reminder that everything was going well and that he had someone he really loved.

“Ry,” Brendon said softly, trying to wake him up gently. “Ryyyyyaaaaaaan.”

When he didn’t stir, Brendon pressed a feather-light kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Ryan,” he sang, grinning as he saw him start to wake up. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmmh,” Ryan mumbled, curling up closer to him. “I’m sleeping.”

“I’ll make you pancakes,” he bribed him.

“Sleeping,” came Ryan’s tired reply.

Rolling his eyes, Brendon moved so that he could kiss Ryan, their lips sticking together slightly, chapped from sleep.

“You taste like morning,” Ryan laughed breathily, pulling away and trying his best to pull a disgusted face.

“Like you _don’t_ ,” he teased.

“Hey, you kissed _me_ ,” Ryan pointed out. “So stop complaining. Besides,” he added. “Don’t you have pancakes to make or something?”

“Asshole,” he groaned, dragging himself out of bed slowly.

“You love me,” he said smugly, doing his best to make himself look as comfortable in the bed as physically possible.

“And that could very well change depending on whether or not you get your cute little ass out of bed and help me make the pancakes that I promised you in a serious lapse of sanity.”

“Be that way,” Ryan snapped jokingly, rolling out from under the blankets.

“Do you even know _how_ to make pancakes?” He asked moments later as they walked into their pathetically small kitchen.

“Why the fuck do you think I dragged you out here?” Brendon laughed, reaching for his hand.

“If I remember correctly, I’d say it had something to do with ‘my cute little ass,’” he answered with a grin.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Brendon started a pot of coffee as Ryan started gathering all of the ingredients that they’d need, setting them all on the already-cluttered counter.

“Bren, can you turn the stove on medium?” He asked, handing Brendon a pan They didn’t have one of those convenient electric griddle things, so they had to settle for the next best thing.

“Sure,” he answered, walking over and turning one of the knobs.

“Bren?” Ryan got his attention and Brendon looked at him expectantly. “That’s the wrong burner.”

“Oops,” he said, looking back at the stove and realizing that he had most certainly put the pan on a different burner than the one he’d turned on.

“What would you do without me?” He laughed as Brendon moved the pan to where it was supposed to be.

“Probably starve,” he shrugged. “Or burn the house down.”

“Or both,” he suggested.

“Or both.”

“That would be a really shit way to die,” Brendon mused. “Imagine what my headstone would look like. ‘Here lies Brendon Urie: a fucking idiot.’”

“A fucking idiot who couldn’t make pancakes without the help of his boyfriend, another fucking idiot.”

Ryan sighed a sigh of complete and utter relief when the coffee pot finally made the high-pitched dinging noise that it always made when it was done. “ _Finally_.”

Brendon poured them each a cup, adding just the right amount of creamer to each one - enough so that it wasn’t painfully bitter, but not so much that it was sickeningly sweet - and handed Ryan one of the mugs.

“Mmmmh, energy,” he hummed as he took a sip, earning an amused laugh from Brendon.

They spent the next ten minutes or so trying to perfect the pancake batter, ending up spilling just about as much as they managed to save, and eating a good half of the chocolate chips that they’d planned to put in because why the fuck not?

“Do you want to flip it?” Ryan asked after he’d poured the batter for the first pancake into the pan.

“Depends,” he answered. “How much of a mess are you willing to help me clean up?”

“Oh come on, it’s not that hard,” he grinned. “I’ll even help you if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “See it starting to bubble? That means it’s ready to be flipped.”

“So you take this,” Ryan continued, handing him a spatula and coming to stand behind him. “And I’ll help you.”

Brendon was suddenly hyper-aware of Ryan standing pressed up against him - his hand wrapped on his, his breath on his neck, the familiar smell of coffee and lemon shampoo and all things Ryan enveloping him.

“You’re _really_ distracting,” Brendon told him, relaxing backward slightly.

“Can you think with something other than your dick for like, five seconds? I’m trying to keep you from burning our breakfast,” he laughed quietly into Brendon’s ear.

“Not helping,” he said.  

“Five seconds, Brendon. Five seconds.”

“ _Fine_ ,” he whined, Ryan’s hand guiding his as they successfully flipped the pancake, revealing the cooked, golden brown side that had been on the pan.

“See?” Ryan asked triumphantly. “It’s not that hard.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ryan rolled his eyes as Brendon turned around to kiss him. “If you fucking burn our breakfast because you couldn’t keep it in your goddamn pants…”

“I love you,” he grinned against Ryan’s lips.

“I love you too,” he replied. “But you’re still a fucking idiot.”

“I can live with that.”


	8. Peterick - Love Is Both Given And Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete always does little thinks for Patrick, like putting books away or cleaning his glasses for him. Patrick doesn't always notice it, but that doesn't matter to Pete. He doesn't do it for recognition or to prove he's responsible; he just does it because he knows it makes Patrick's life a tiny bit better, and sometimes - especially on bad nights - making Patrick happy is all he feels like he can do right. But Patrick has known Pete long enough to be able to tell when he gets bad, so whenever Pete is going completely out of his way to do things for him, he's super cuddly, and he makes sure to tell Pete just how much he loves him. As much as Pete does little things to make Patric happy, Patrick does the same for him.

Pete laid awake, blinking up at his dark surroundings. Sometimes he could trick himself into believing that he was home and not alone in a dark tour bus. Well - not alone per say, but he might as well be. The rest of the band was fast asleep around him and away somewhere in the happy places their brains created for them while they slept. Pete sometimes wondered what those places would look like if he could look into their minds.

He found himself thinking about what a perfect world for Patrick would be. Probably a world with lots of color - one where everyone was nice to each other - and with music being played forever. A world without wars and without hatred. Also probably with a better appreciation for fedoras. Pete’s thoughts, though, were interrupted by the sound of something clattering to the ground in the bathroom. Patrick’s perfect world probably wouldn’t have so much stuff placed precariously on the edge of their tiny, shared sink. He got up to fix whatever had fallen - it wasn’t as if he was going to sleep - and closed the bathroom door tight behind him before turning on the light so as to not wake his bandmates by knocking anything else over. On the ground was his bottle of shaving cream; of course it had been something of _his_ that had almost woken them. Just his luck.

He picked up the bottle and set it back on the shelf - this time placed far less hazardously. He looked around the bathroom and saw that, as always, it was an absolute mess. He couldn’t blame the rest of the band. Andy kept the bus as tidy as he could. Joe helped, but he could be a bit of a mess. And Patrick… It wasn’t his fault. After all, he had ADHD and sometimes often forgot to put stuff away. No one blamed him, but it did make the bus a little messier. Despite being disorganized, Patrick really did like things to be orderly, so Pete started putting a few more things away. Those “few things” turned into organizing the entire bathroom, and he only stopped when he saw the sun creeping up through the window. _Shit_. Guess he wasn’t sleeping again.

He slunk back into bed before Andy - always the early-riser in the band - woke and asked why he was up already. He closed his eyes and watched the pitch-black behind his eyelids slowly get lighter as the sun started to creep across the horizon. He was so close to sleep that his mind couldn’t even make proper thoughts, but he just couldn’t manage to fall asleep. He laid in that almost-comatose state until he heard footsteps - Andy’s, he presumed. He opened his eyes and looked toward the where the sound was coming from, but his bandmate had already disappeared into the bathroom.

He rolled over and hid his face in the pillow. His entire body ached with weariness and his eyes hurt. Everything felt wrong, but he couldn’t fix it. The world got fuzzy for a few seconds like it sometimes did when he was on the verge of passing out with exhaustion, but a hand on his shoulder pulled him from his half-asleep trance

“Pete?” Patrick’s quiet voice said from behind him.

Pete yawned and rolled over to see him. “Yeah?”

“How late were you up?”

Pete didn’t have the heart to lie to Patrick when he looked like that, his eyes full of concern, so he said nothing.

“Bad night?”

“How did you know?”

“I saw the bathroom. I mean, it needed it, so thanks, but you didn’t have to.”

Pete looked down. The whole point of last night was to make Patrick happy; if he wasn’t happy then it was all for nothing.

“I just wanted to help.”

Patrick exhaled a soft laugh. “I know you think I don’t notice, but I do.”

Pete looked back up at him, trying not to squint at the light. “Notice what?”

“You do people favors when you feel bad. It’s sweet, but you shouldn’t.”

Pete sat up and shrugged. “I just want to help.”

Patrick leaned forward and pulled Pete into a hug. “Just focus on you, okay? If you need to sleep-”

“I tried.”

It was clear that wasn’t the answer Patrick was looking for, but he didn’t say anything.

“I did. I just figured that if I wasn’t going to sleep, I might as well do _something_.”

Patrick nodded. “We’ve got a few more hours of driving. Try and rest some more.”

Pete sighed. It wasn’t that easy, but Patrick didn’t understand that.

“I’ll try,” he hesitated a few seconds and looked at Patrick. “Stay with me?”

Patrick smiled and nodded. They laid down together, and Pete watched as Patrick fell asleep within just a few minutes.

***

It had been over a week since Pete’s last bad night, and he seemed to be getting better. That didn’t make Patrick feel much better though. Pete was sleeping soundly while they drove through the South Dakota countryside, but Patrick couldn’t bother to appreciate the rolling, weathered hills outside his window. He was hanging his head down over his bunk railing to check on Pete in the bunk below him. Each time he checked, he was still sleeping, but Patrick didn’t want to risk it.

He looked around the bus and his eyes caught on the dresser. Usually the dresser was covered by jackets, belts, socks, books, or whatever else the four of them were too lazy or tired to put away, but now it was completely clean, the black wood even looking as if it had been polished. Of course it had been Pete; no one else would put _that_ much effort into cleaning their crowded, messy bus.

Patrick looked down at Pete again and smiled softly but it was bittersweet. This meant that Pete was having another one of his bad days. Patrick slipped out of his bed, trying to not disturb any of his resting bandmates, and then into Pete’s bunk. Pete’s skin was cold to the touch, so Patrick pulled the blanket around him more, before slipping under the blankets with him. He wasn’t sure how to make Pete feel better without waking him, but he hoped this was enough. This way he’d at least wake up warm and comfortable; he’d at least wake up knowing that Patrick cared.

***

Pete woke up after a long and well-needed nap to the smell of jasmine shampoo and the feeling of Patrick’s body pressed close to his. His body felt stiff from lying still for so long. Before he’d fallen asleep, he had been in another one of his moods; he just hadn’t been able to find any motivation to move at all besides to clear off the dresser in order to make Patrick happy, and after that he’d collapsed onto the bed and laid there for maybe an hour, before passing out from exhaustion.

Now he didn’t feel that same useless, no motivation to live feeling that he had before; mainly he just felt hungry. Despite his stomach’s protests though, he didn’t get up to get some form of food from his bag, and instead simply put an arm around Patrick and watched him. Watching someone sleep has always been portrayed as creepy and stalkerish, but Pete disagreed. Watching someone when they’re awake is easy because they’re doing stuff, but when they’re sleeping, you have to really love them to be content with just watching their quiet breathing and the way their eyelids flutter as they dream.

Pete was in love with Patrick. He’d decided that a long time ago. He’d denied it for years, but there was no point anymore. He couldn’t act like he only saw Patrick as a friend any more than he could stop breathing. Patrick knew, too; everyone knew to an extent, but no one talked about it. The effect that could have on the band and their friendship could easily be catastrophic, seeing as Pete’s relationships tended to end badly for both parties.

Patrick woke up after a while and looked up at Pete instinctively. Pete was only half-awake by that point, so when he spoke it was mumbled and probably barely audible. “Sleep well?”

Patrick nodded, regardless.

“You knew again,” Pete said after a minute of silence.  
“I always know, it’s my job as your best friend.”

Pete couldn’t argue that, it was true. Patrick was exceptionally good at knowing what Pete needed to feel better. Pete was complicated, and often made no sense; sometimes he needed a hug and for someone to stay with him all night, and other times he needed to be left alone with his thoughts. Both moods were almost impossible to tell apart, but somehow Patrick managed it.

“Thank you…” He said softly, as if it was hard to say, because it was. He hated dragging Patrick into all of this, but he just couldn’t stop.

“You’re welcome, Pete.”

There was silence then, and they both knew what came next.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“Like, really love you?”

Pete didn’t know why he kept saying it. Maybe he just wanted Patrick to know how much he cared about him or maybe he was hoping Patrick would say it back. Whatever the reason, he always said it during moments like this, and Patrick always replied in the exact same way.

“I know, Pete.” This time, though, there was a different feeling to his words. Usually after that, there was silence until another topic arose, but this time Patrick continued. “I love you too.”

“As friends, yeah,” Pete said, he appreciated Patrick’s effort, but hearing him say that hurt a bit.

“No,”

Pete couldn’t have heard that right, could he?

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Patrick’s eyes were wide and he looked like he was legitimately scared of how Pete would react.

“You do?”

“Yes. I, uh, I was scared and didn’t really know it but… Yeah.”

Pete couldn’t believe it. Patrick had known how Pete felt for years, and never realized how he felt until now. It was way too good to be true.

“You sure?”

Patrick nodded and looked down silently.

Pete just hugged him tightly. “Thanks for letting me know.” he said, smiling.

Patrick smiled too, and the importance of this moment started to sink in for Pete. He loved Patrick, and Patrick loved him. Patrick was logical, and he would rather hide this information from Pete than he would hurt him by telling him and then not acting on those feelings.

“You want to be with me?” he asked as clarification.

Patrick nodded and smiled more. “Yeah, I really do.”

“What made you realize?”

“I think…” Patrick hesitated a second to think. “All this stuff that you’ve been doing. That’s more than friendship, and I realized I’d do the same for you so…”

Pete smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	9. Frerard - Attention Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets wrapped up in his work a lot, and although Gerard appreciates how dedicated he is, sometimes he could just REALLY use some attention. And so he developed a little game to see just what he has to do to get Frank's mind off of work and onto him. Turns out, all it takes is a mini-skirt and some convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's sort of smutty, consider yourselves warned...

Gerard loved everything about Frank, honestly he did. He loved the good things about him, like his smile and how caring he was; but he also liked the not-so-good things about him, like how he always got sick, or that he was just as stubborn as Gerard, so they sometimes got into stupid arguments, because those things made him who he was. The only thing that really bothered him about Frank was that he got caught up in his work. When he wasn’t working, Frank was more than happy to listen to Gerard ramble or curl up on the couch with him and watch shitty horror movies, but not when he was working. Frank would close himself in his office and go over audio files for hours on end, and Gerard respected his dedication to his work, but it really couldn’t hurt for him to take a quick break to pay attention to him.

This was one of those days, and Gerard was camped out on the armchair by Frank’s office, waiting for him to emerge to get water. He’d been in there for almost two hours, and Gerard was getting really bored of the comic he was reading. He was just about to give up and go back into their room to find something else to do, when the door to the office opened slowly. Gerard immediately stretched out across the chair and let out the most pathetic whine he could muster. Frank looked at him and ruffled his already-messy hair as he passed, but made no other gesture of affection towards him.

“Frank!” Gerard pouted and followed Frank into the kitchen where he was pouring himself a glass of water.

“Babe,” Frank said softly. “I love you - you know that - but  _ please _ let me work.”

Gerard knew there wasn’t much use in trying, but he didn’t have anything else to do.

“Please?” He asked, taking Frank’s free hand.

Frank gave him his signature ‘this argument is over’ look, and Gerard knew better than to pester him more. Frank kissed him quickly and then left to go back to his work. Gerard thought about following him, but knew that the other thing that came with his workaholic moods was the tendency to get pissed off easily, so he decided against it.

***

An hour or so later, Gerard was watching TV in their room, and The Bachelor was starting to get old. He looked around for something else to do, but found nothing. The closet door was slightly open though, and a red mini skirt caught his eye against the rest of the primarily black clothes, giving him an idea. He got up and locked the door, just in case Frank decided he needed to come in for something, before stripping his pajamas off. The skirt was one of the many things in their closet that they didn’t tell people about. It wasn’t their fault; they were kinky little fucks (Gerard especially, but he’d never admit to that).

After a while of getting dressed into the red skirt and a white button-down, as well as making sure his hair was slightly under control, Gerard went back to the hallway outside Frank’s office. He didn’t bother to knock and instead slipped into the room silently. Frank was sitting in his desk chair with his back to Gerard, his hair a mess and a half empty cup of coffee sitting precariously on the edge of the desk near a large stack of papers. Frank didn’t notice as Gerard walked up to him which gave him an opportunity to surprise him. He put his hand on the back of Frank’s chair and spun it around so Frank was facing him. Frank’s eyes widened at the sudden movement but quickly narrowed when he saw that Gerard had come to try and get his attention again.

“Gee, I’m worki-” he started, but Gerard didn’t give him time to finish. He put his hands on Frank’s shoulders and straddled his hips; as Gerard expected, that shut him up. Frank looked up at him, a little shocked, but the annoyed look from before had left his eyes.

Gerard smiled smugly and rested his forehead against Frank’s. “Can’t you take a break though? Just a quick one?”

Frank looked like he was trying as hard as he could not to give in to Gerard’s request. “Gee, no. I have to get this stuff done.”

“Please, Frankie?”

The brunette ran his hands down Gerard’s sides and settled them on his hips. He didn’t argue this time, and Gerard smiled, knowing he was winning. Gerard put his hands on Frank’s chest and felt his breathing. Part of him wanted to just pull Frank’s clothes off and have sex right there, but Frank looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion, so maybe that would have to wait.

“You should rest; when was the last time you even slept?”

Frank shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Couple days ago,” he said as if that was completely healthy.

“Come sleep,” Gerard offered, starting to slide off Frank’s lap, but Frank pulled him back.

“Stay. I’m sorry I was ignoring you,” his voice was lower than usual, and Gerard could tell that sleep really wasn’t his intention.

“It’s not a big deal, just…” He trailed off when Frank started unbuttoning his shirt; looks like neither of them were resting any time soon. He reached over to close Frank’s computer, just in case he got distracted again, before resting his forehead on Frank’s.

“Can I make it up to you?”

Gerard rolled his eyes because that line was way too overused and just cheesy, but he didn’t say anything, because pissing Frank off at this point really wouldn’t be a good idea. He relaxed and let Frank pull his and his own shirt off, partially because he liked Frank having control and partially because he was lazy.

“Do you want to do this in the bedroom instead?” Frank asked, his breath soft against Gerard’s lips.

Gerard shrugged. “Wherever. Just, you know, hurry the fuck up.”

Frank laughed and kissed him, smiling against his lips. When they’d first gotten together, sex had been such a major thing. Every single time had been important, but now it was just another part of their relationship. Not to say it wasn’t enjoyable, because it really was, but it was just different now. There was a lot more laughing, sarcastic remarks, and pushing each other off the bed.

“The bedroom has all the stuff in it, so get up,” Frank said, making sure to slip his hands under Gerard’s skirt as he did, which might have been a little counterproductive but completely worth it.

Gerard smiled and got off Frank’s lap so that he could get up. Frank kissed him in a way that was probably too hard and messy, but it was perfect in Gerard’s mind, doing nothing but reinforcing the point that his fantastic idea had not only gotten Frank to take a break from work, but was also going to get him laid.

Frank pulled away and left the room without saying anything, which wasn’t all that unusual for him; while Gerard talked a lot when he was turned on, Frank went quiet. Gerard took his skirt off as he followed, folding it quickly and setting it down on the dresser because it was a nice skirt, and he didn’t want to risk messing it up in their haste.

Frank was already on the bed when he looked up and smiling. “Sometimes I think you care more about your laundry than you care about me.”

“It’s a nice skirt,” Gerard replied and sat next to him, as close as he could get with Frank still half-clothed. “I don’t want it getting wrinkled.”

Frank rolled his eyes and put his hand on the back of Gerard’s neck to kiss him. This kiss was softer and slower than the last, and it made Gerard’s heart stop and speed up, all at the same time. At some point during the kiss Gerard ended up laying down, Frank pressed on top of him. Frank kept kissing Gerard as he undid his jeans, smiling softly once the rough material was off. Gerard’s hands were on Frank’s back and hips, his thumb tucked under the waistband on his boyfriend’s boxers, pushing them down slowly. Frank pulled Gerard’s briefs off at the same time (Gerard swore he only wore them instead of boxers because they were more comfortable but in all honestly it was because he had a great ass and boxers just didn’t do him justice). Gerard broke the kiss once both of them were undressed, smiling softly at the way Frank’s unkempt hair fell into his eyes, which were darker than usual from just kissing.

“How do you want to do this?” Gerard asked, making Frank roll his eyes again.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He kissed Gerard to make sure he didn’t take it the wrong way, as he reached over to the bedside drawer.

“Not really,” Gerard mumbled against Frank’s lips, giggling softly.

“Why do I even ask?” Frank said, more as a statement than a question.

Another snarky remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it because Frank had uncapped the bottle of lube from the drawer, and was moving into a kneeling position between Gerard’s legs.

“Done talking?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured a few drops of lubricant onto his hand.

Gerard just nodded and closed his eyes. He tensed as Frank pushed one finger into him without warning. He never got quite used to that feeling, no matter how much he trusted Frank; but Frank made up for it because he knew Gerard well enough to take a few seconds and let him relax. After Gerard gave him a nod to continue and opened his eyes, Frank started again. Gerard watched Frank’s face to distract himself from how the lube was still too cold, watching the way Frank’s eyes flicked over his body on concentration.

It didn’t take long before the uncomfortable feeling faded and was replaced by pleasure. Gerard had his eyes closed again, and was making soft whimpers and moans as Frank fingered him. Gerard could feel Frank’s eyes on him and he was getting needier with every second of the movement of Frank’s three fingers in him. He was on the edge of just pushing Frank off and telling him to hurry up, when Frank pulled out, causing Gerard to whimper at the loss.

“You ready?” Frank asked even though he knew the answer.

Gerard nodded, propping himself up so he could watch Frank roll on a condom. “Yeah, could you be any slower?”

Frank glared at him half-heartedly and pushed him back down. “Shut up or I  _ will _ go slower.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and settled back down, letting Frank take his precious time to get the condom on and pour more lube.

After what seemed like hours, Frank put one hand on the back of Gerard’s leg to keep him still. Gerard lifted his head to watch as Frank pushed into him slowly. He was always careful at first, even if it got on Gerard’s nerves at times. Gerard let him stay at that slow pace for a while, but eventually pressed his face into Frank’s neck.

“Hurry up. Please, Frank. I’m okay. Hurry up.”

Frank chuckled breathily, and moved his hips against Gerard’s faster. Gerard moaned and laid back down, his head tilted back slightly. Frank was moaning softly as well, and had his head tucked into the crook of Gerard’s shoulder, his breath speeding up after a few minutes. Gerard’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was arching his back up to get a better angle.

“Frank, holy shit…” He moaned and tightened his fingers in Frank’s hair.

Frank only replied by moaning into his ear, louder than before. Frank’s thrusts had become less rhythmed and faster, so Gerard knew he wouldn’t last long. A part of Gerard wanted to make it last, but he was too far gone to care about that. He wrapped one leg around Frank’s hips to keep him from changing his angle again.

“Frank,” he breathed between moans. “I-I’m gonna-”

He was cut off by Frank moaning louder as he reached his own climax, causing Gerard to laugh softly. Frank’s movements slowed, but even that was enough to push Gerard over the edge. He moaned again and tugged Frank’s hair, his back arching, before collapsing under Frank. His breathing slowed and he closed his eyes, too worn out to bother to care about anything except the way he could feel Frank’s breathing slowing down alongside his own. Frank pulled out of him and laid down beside him, humming softly in contentment. Gerard opened one eye to look at him and smiled.

“Better than working?” He asked smugly.

“Much better,” Frank grinned. He reached up and smoothed out Gerard’s hair, which was completely out of control by this point. “You know I have to go back to that soon though, right?”

Gerard pulled the sheet over both of them and rolled onto his side. “No, stay. Just for a while. Please.” He really needed a nap after that, but sleeping after sex without the person you had sex with was just depressing.

Frank exhaled softly and put his arm around Gerard. “Fine. I guess a few more hours can’t hurt.”


	10. Jalex - Capture Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to take a lot of really long business trips for work, and he always takes candid photos of Alex with him so that he can look at them while he's away. He has pictures of him sleeping, singing, dancing, during sex, walking, playing video games... All sorts of pictures of Alex, because they make him feel like he's home.

Jack looked out the airplane window at the passing clouds. Up here, the rest of the world hardly felt real. The light puffy clouds that floated between him and the earth looked so surreal, and he could almost pretend that he wasn’t in a giant metal tube with a hundred other people. Almost. He looked down at his phone instead and unlocked it, trying to find some sort of distraction from the reality of his situation. He had thought he’d be fine this flight without buying internet access, but he quickly decided he was wrong and now, with only an hour left of the flight, it was hardly worth the $7.99 he would have to pay for it.

He opened his camera roll, which was full of over a thousand photos of random things; screenshots of emails, bad selfies, pictures from shows, but mainly pictures of Alex. Jack had always been one for taking pictures. One day he’d be that dad who took a thousand pictures of his kids for no real reason apart from the fact that he could. For now, Alex was his main model. The first picture of Alex that showed up was simply of him during a show. He didn’t even take this one, but he liked it. Alex’s hair fell over his eyes, and one of his hands held the neck of his guitar while the other held his microphone. The blue lighting behind him and the way his head dipped down with emotion made him look absolutely angelic to Jack.

The next photo was just a screenshot of a snapchat Alex had sent him about a week ago when Jack had first left on this trip. Not long now, he thought as he checked the time on his phone. The photo was just a selfie with the caption “miss you,” and it made Jack smile. Alex could make the weirdest faces, practically contorting his face into something inhuman, and somehow look good and be the most attractive man Jack had ever met.

There was another photo that was just of Alex smiling sometime before a show. It was that genuine smile he had that stretched across his whole face and made the corners of his eyes wrinkle. That smile was contagious.

***

Jack walked out of the airport gate carrying his bags, his eyes on the designed, probably filthy carpet. Despite being back now, he still had to get an Uber back home, which would be hell because of how busy the airport was. He really missed Alex too, but he wouldn't be able to see his boyfriend (or whatever they were) for the rest of the day.

He didn’t bother to look around much - he knew this airport well enough to get out by himself - so he didn’t notice the man standing by the wall and smiling at him until he spoke.

“Barakat,” the man said and Jack looked up. Alex was supposed to be working all day, but apparently not, seeing as he was now standing in front of Jack looking amused. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Uh…” Jack answered. “I _was_ going to get an Uber. Aren’t you recording?”

“Nope, I canceled. I texted you this morning.”

Jack shrugged and walked with Alex through the confusing maze of tourist shops, restaurants, and boarding gates to get outside. “My phone was on airplane mode.”

Alex nodded in understanding and walked closer to Jack. They couldn’t hold hands or anything of that sort because they were still “just friends” in the eyes of the outside world. Only the other members of the band, a few close friends, and family members knew that they were together.

“Did you miss me?” Jack asked teasingly.

Alex smiled slightly. “Nah, it was great without your lazy ass around.”

“Missed you too, dude,” Jack said, putting an arm around Alex’s shoulders for a few minutes until they had to go down an escalator and having his arm around him could lead to a trip to the ER.

“Recording sucked without you.”

“What was so bad about it?”

Alex looked up at one of the billboards advertising some random tourist attraction; he was easily distracted. “Um... “ He said. “it was like… Really…”

“Alex,” Jack interrupted, laughing. “Think about what you’re trying to say first.”

Alex looked back at him bashfully and took a second before speaking again. “What did you ask? Sorry, there was an ad for a roller coaster and it was like… Yeah, sorry.”

Jack nudged Alex’s foot with his to comfort him before stepping off the escalator. “No problem. I missed you.”

“You already said that.” His expression turned to a smile, and he followed close behind Jack.

“Well, I _mean_ it. Where’s the car?”

Alex took Jack’s hand again and lead him outside “Uber should be around here… Somewhere…”

***

They found the Uber after a few minutes of wandering and Alex checking his phone over and over again; as Jack predicted, the airport pickup area was packed. Once they were inside the car, Jack could feel Alex relax. He’d always hated crowds. Alex chose to sit in the middle seat just to be closer to Jack, which he didn’t complain about, since he really had missed him while he was gone.

“Was it pretty in Switzerland?” Alex asked.

“I was only there a day. The rest of the time I was just in Bristol, and we’ve been there a thousand times. The view from my hotel there was really pretty though.”

“In Bristol?”

Jack shook his head and opened his phone camera roll to find the photo he took. “See?”

Alex took it and smiled. “That is nice. I wish I could have gone with you.”

Jack looked out the window at the city passing as the car drove along the highway. “I don’t know, it’s good to be home.”

There was a pause in the conversation before Alex spoke. “Jack, are you stalking me?”

Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Alex. “What?”

Alex held up the phone and flipped through a few photos, smiling. “You’re totally stalking me.” Of course, all the photos were of him.

Jack was a little embarrassed. Everyone occasionally snapped a few pictures of the people they loved, but almost every photo Jack _had_ was of Alex. That could be considered creepy. “Yeah, that, I... “ He shrugged, trying to brush it off, but obviously failing.

Alex laughed and put Jack’s phone back on his lap. “Dude, chill, it’s cute.”

“How?” He asked quizzically.

Alex shrugged. “Just is.”

“I like to have pictures of you for when I travel. They’re nice to keep me from getting lonely.”

“See?” Alex grinned. “Cute.”

***

Later that night, they had gone out with a few friends to a bar to celebrate Jack coming home, but everyone knew it was just a weak excuse to get drunk. Jack was on the verge between tipsy and drunk when he ordered another round of shots, Alex observed from his sober state. Somehow he’d been roped into being the designated driver for the night, and he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but it did give him the opportunity to watch his boyfriend making a complete fool of himself. Alex looked back at his phone and went through his notifications; if he was being honest, they were far less interesting than watching Jack’s attempts to function normally.

Someone called his name from behind him after a while, so he turned. One of Jack’s friends, James or something else generic like that, was standing with Jack, who had managed to stumble his way over there. “We’re going to go swimming. Wanna come?”

Alex had no idea where they planned to go swimming or how they planned to get there without him, but drunk people plus water was never a good plan. “Let’s stay here tonight. We can go swimming tomorrow.”

“Please?” Jack asked in a high-pitched tone that made his voice crack.

“Not tonight.” He said, and turned his head for a minute to see where the rest of the group went. He heard Jack laughing behind him and he turned back to make sure he wasn’t doing anything insanely stupid, but he didn’t see the two men anymore. The bartender saw his confusion and pointed towards the far wall. “Your friends ran into the bathroom if you’re wondering.”

Alex shook his head in exasperation and thanked the man before following Jack and James into the bathroom. Sometimes being with Jack was like herding cats. Instead of seeing Jack hunched over the toilet as he expected, he was holding his hands under the sink with the water running.

“Alex, hi, if we cover the drain will the sink fill up?” James asked, glancing over Jack’s shoulder.

Alex almost said yes, but decided that encouraging them was about the worst thing he could do at the moment. Instead, he turned the faucet off and dried Jack’s hands for him. “Don’t try it.”

Jack flicked the remaining water on his hands onto Alex and laughed loudly. He was an easily amused drunk. James started laughing too, which only made Jack laugh harder and lean back against the wall. The tile of the wall, however, seemed more slippery than Jack had expected, and his face of pure drunken bliss quickly turned to a deer-in-the-headlights expression as he landed hard on his ass. After a quick glance around his surroundings to comprehend what had happened, he started laughing again, though. Alex couldn’t help but smile at Jack then; he looked utterly ridiculous, awkwardly pressed up against the wall and partially under the sink. Alex’s phone buzzed, and he took it out. It was only a text from Rian asking if they needed a ride home, but instead of replying he slid the screen up to the camera and took a picture of Jack on the floor. Now they’d have something to laugh about later - or, at least, Alex would. He saw the reason why Jack’s phone had so many pictures of him now; they brought back good memories.


	11. Frerard - A Place To Rest A Tired Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard accidentally voices his sexual frustrations to most of the rest of the band, making the mistake of assuming they were all asleep...... They were not.

Gerard felt like they’d been driving forever. And ever. And ever. Ahead of them was nothing but an empty, foggy road, and behind them looked exactly the same. Every once in awhile, an annoyed driver would speed past them at some fucking ridiculously unsafe speed, but other than that the scenery had been exactly the same for  _ miles. _ He’d watched the sun fall behind the trees along the side of the road that night, and now he was still awake and watching it rise again. Something about the tour bus just made it impossible for him to sleep. Maybe it was the inconsistency of the movement, or the jostling bumps in the road that they kept hitting , or the way no matter how much he tossed and turned he just couldn’t get comfortable. Whatever it was, it was fucking annoying.

And so that was how he found himself slumped across his bunk, gazing absentmindedly out towards the front of the bus and through the window at the sky, which was almost as bright as his hair. With his luck, he’d probably end up falling asleep like that, waking up only when one of the guys jumped on him or dumped water on his head or something, his neck sore for the rest of the day.

He could really use someone to lay with him, maybe talk to him, just keep him from going insane. Having someone with him tended to help with his insomnia a little. He could cuddle with them and, if it was the right person, kiss them, and just feel the comfort of another human’s company.

He hadn’t dated anyone in so long and he felt like he was going to go crazy from the loneliness. True, he had the other guys, but it wasn’t the  _ same _ . He couldn’t kiss them, and they didn’t hold him, and he  _ definitely _ couldn’t fuck them. Oh great, now he was just laying there thinking about how horny he was. He rolled over onto his stomach and huffed.

“Man, I need some dick right now,” he mumbled into his pillow. No one would be awake to hear anyway.

“You horny too?” Frank’s voice said from his bunk on the other side of the bus.

“Oh, shit, you’re awake?” He hadn’t  _ thought _ anyone would still be up.

“Can you two shut up?” Mikey’s tired voice asked from the bunk below Gerard. “ _Some_ _of us_ are trying to actually _sleep_ , and not just complaining about how they're not getting laid.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake - is  _ everyone _ awake?” So much for voicing his sexual frustrations with no one around to notice.

His question was answered with a quiet snore from Ray.

“Apparently not,” Frank laughed breathily.

“Have you guys gotten any sleep yet at all?” Gerard asked.

“Few hours, yeah. That last pothole woke me up, though.”

“Same, what about you, Gee?”

“Same here,” he lied, not wanting to worry anyone with his sleeping problems.

“This tour is killing me,” Mikey said. “I think I’m getting old.”

Frank laughed. “Dude, if you’re old then Gerard’s, like, a senior citizen.”

Gerard was too lost in his thoughts and the fact that he hadn’t slept in days to really care, so he just hummed in reply.

“Gee?” Mikey said, concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“Gerard, come over here,” Frank said simply. He could hear the younger man move over to make room.

“Frank, he’s  _ my _ brother,” Mikey protested but was cut off when Gerard got down off his bunk and got into Frank’s instead.

“Sorry, Mikey. I love you, but there’s more room here,” he mumbled, then curled up in Frank’s arms.

“Okay,” Mikey said and then yawned. “Night guys.”

“Goodnight,” they said together. Frank rested his hand on the curve of Gerard’s hip and dropped his voice down to a whisper so as not to wake Mikey again. “What’s wrong?”

Gerard sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, just don’t feel right. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I…” He trailed off, getting lost in the feeling of Frank rubbing his fingers along his hipbone. “I’m lonely,” he concluded.

“I know how you feel. We’re all here for you, though. You don’t have to feel lonely.”

He knew Frank was trying, and it made him feel a little better, but only by so much. “Thank you. Not really what I meant, though.”

“What do you mean then?”

“I mean I… I guess I want someone who’s more than a friend, y’know?”

Frank nodded and hummed understandingly. “Been there. Anyone in mind?”

To be honest, yes. Gerard had been thinking about someone like that for a while now, but he wouldn’t say that. It’d never work out, seeing as the person he had feelings for was also the same person whose bed he was in.

Yes, Gerard Arthur Way had a stupid crush on Frank Anthony Iero. A crush which, mind you, he was  _ really _ trying to ignore, because it was becoming an inconvenience. Frank finding out about his feelings for him could ruin their friendship, maybe even the band.

“Kind of. I mean...no. No one,” he said, really not wanting to go into detail about Frank, with Frank; that could be complicated.

“Who is it?”

“No one, Frank. I don’t like anyone.” He said flatly, hoping that he’d drop it.

“Fine, if you won't tell me  _ who _ it is, at least tell me  _ about _ them?”

Gerard couldn’t see the harm in that. He could describe Frank without Frank catching on, right?

“Well, um, he’s… she’s… he’s… okay yeah, _ he’s _ really nice, really attractive. He’s one of my best friends, and he’s done so much for me. He has black hair and really great tattoos. He’s also really talented and…” he trailed off, not wanting to give too much away.

“Gerard,” Frank said, smiling at him. “Is it just me, or did you just describe me?”

Gerard swallowed, trying to figure out how to get out of this. “Um...no?”

He was expecting Frank to freak out or something, but he just smiled. “You did. You like me?”

This was probably an awkward time to confess, seeing as he was pressed up against Frank, but whatever. “Kind of. Sorry, you’re just…”

“I like you too, dude. Want to be my boyfriend?”

Gerard nodded quickly but before he could say anything else, Mikey spoke again. “Whoopdie-fucking-do. You found love; now go to  _ sleep _ .”

Frank laughed. “You’re just jealous.”

“‘M not jealous, I’m tired,” Mikey mumbled. “And it’s hot in here.”

Mikey was right about that, the bus was really hot and being crammed into a bed with another human wasn’t helping.

“At least you don’t have Gee with you! He’s like a big bag of warm.”

Frank unzipped the jacket he slept in to try and cool off, which Gerard wouldn’t complain about because  _ damn _ .

Mikey didn’t reply besides a deflated huff. The bed creaked a little as Frank pulled the jacket off completely. Gerard grinned and pulled Frank down to whisper: “You should throw it at Mikey.”

Frank laughed and tossed it down to Mikey’s bed.

“Hey!” The younger Way brother cried. “Keep your clothes on! Jesus Christ.”

Gerard pulled his own sweatshirt off - for heat reasons, obviously - and tossed it at Mikey as well.

Mikey just groaned and tried to go back to sleep, which seemed to be a cue to stop pestering him, because an angry, tired Mikey was not fun. Gerard decided instead to focus on wriggling closer to Frank.

“So you’re my boyfriend now?” Frank said softer so only Gerard could hear.

“Yeah, if you want me to be at least,” he replied.

“Cool, um, should we sleep or something?”

Gerard laughed softly. “You’re going to ask me to be your boyfriend and then fall asleep?”

“I never said I was a _good_ boyfriend.”

“Shut up, you’re great,” Gerard said softly, pressing his face into Frank’s neck.

“Thanks,” Frank hummed softly and closed his eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

Gerard smiled and nodded. “Much better, thank you.”

“Anything else you need?”

“Nope, ‘m good.”

Frank started combing through Gerard’s dyed hair soothingly. “Sleep then. You need it.”

Gerard almost argued but he was so comfortable and warm, he didn’t want to risk ruining stuff.

“‘Night, Frankie,” he mumbled and let himself relax and started actually drifting in and out of consciousness; the sleep he’d missed finally catching up with him.

“Goodnight, Gee,” Frank said; which was the last thing Gerard perceived before finally falling asleep.


	12. Ryden - Worst Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and Ryan have a one night stand, but that isn't all it is.

Brendon looked at the digital clock on the wall that read 8:52am. It had been roughly fifteen hours since, in a drug-induced moment of bravery, he’d told Ryan that he saw him as more than just a friend. The results of that action, he thought, were far better than he’d expected, seeing as Ryan was still asleep in Brendon’s bed. Most of the night before was a little hazy, but he could still remember the important parts, so he wasn’t upset.

“I like you too, genius. Everyone knows that. Did you not catch on?” Ryan had said, always the romantic.

“Guess not,” he had replied sheepishly.

Ryan had laughed, and maybe that was a little cold, but honestly Brendon couldn’t care less because then Ryan had kissed him. Brendon hadn’t kissed all that many people, but he definitely thought that this kiss was much better than all the others. Ryan had been sitting next to Brendon with his hands on Brendon’s shoulders, or it could have been his chest… He couldn’t remember the minor details. Things were blurry in his mind for a while, so the next thing he remembered was being really surprised when Ryan had stood up, until he’d asked if he wanted to go into the bedroom, which, of course, he did.

Brendon smiled at the memory a little and then got up to go get coffee. He was a little hungover, but not as badly as he’d expected. Plus, it was hard to be upset about anything when he’d just had sex with the guy he’d been pretty much obsessed with for years. He left his coffee black because as he finished pouring it, he heard his bedroom door open.

Ryan’s hair was a mess, and there were bags under his eyes, but he still looked amazing. Brendon gave him a shy smile which Ryan reciprocated, and then rubbed his eyes. “Do you remember last night?” He asked.

Brendon’s jaw tensed, he really didn’t want to explain that to him. Then he realized that maybe Ryan didn’t really want them to even be a thing at all now that he was sober.

“Um,” he stalled. “Do you?”

Ryan nodded, and Brendon could see his bashful look from across the room. “Yeah…”

“And?”

He looked up and gave Brendon an almost annoyed look. “What do you want me to say?”

“Are we a thing?”

“I’d really hope so, after that.”

Brendon relaxed and nodded. “Okay, good.”

Ryan walked over and got his own mug of coffee. “Did you think I’d say no?”

“I didn’t know what you’d say.” He replied honestly. All things considered, he should have known he had nothing to worry about. Even Ryan wasn’t cruel enough to break it off after a confession like that.

“Am I that that unpredictable?”

Brendon smiled slightly. “Definitely. I _never_ know what you’re going to do.”

Ryan crossed his legs at his ankles and looked across the kitchen at Brendon. “Good. I’d have to leave if you started to understand me.”

“No one will ever understand you, Ryan. I promise you that.”

Ryan fell silent and looked at Brendon as he sipped his coffee, his doe eyes burning a hole into Brendon. He truly never would understand Ryan. The look he was getting now could mean just about anything. Brendon got nervous when Ryan looked at him like that because of his unpredictability; it usually didn't mean anything bad, but when it did… Not many people could hurt Brendon the was Ryan could, and that scared him.

“You’re not as bad in bed as I thought you’d be,” Ryan deadpanned, and any nervous thoughts  Brendon had been getting from Ryan’s gaze dissipated. He laughed, and Ryan just watched him, the corners of his lips twitching in a near-smile.

“You thought I’d be bad?” He laughed.

Ryan turned to the fridge in order to hide his smile. “I mean, you weren’t _great,_ but you were better than I expected.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and kicked half-heartedly at Ryan’s foot. “Fuck you, man.”

“You already did.” He said with a smug grin on his face.

Brendon knew this was only the incipient stage of their relationship and things could change, but he hoped he had a lot more mornings like this from now on.

***

They didn’t talk about what this meant for them officially that morning - maybe that was best - but, instead, sat on the couch like they would any other morning. It would have felt exactly the same as before except for the fact that Ryan had his long legs over Brendon’s lap and his head on his shoulder. Neither of them had ever been shy of touching each other, but usually, it was fleeting brushes of hands or casual hugs. This was a different sort of touch; Ryan was almost in Brendon’s lap, and he didn’t seem like he was going to move anytime soon, not that Brendon minded. He liked it when Ryan was close to him.

The TV was on, but neither of them were really watching it; Ryan seemed half-asleep while Brendon was watching the blades of the ceiling fan move in lazy circles. Mornings with nothing to do were one of his favorite times because of the way you could just relax. Things in his life were still for a few minutes; his mind wasn’t racing like it often did in the evening, and the only movement in the room was Ryan’s and his own breathing and the fan. Things stayed that way for a few minutes before Ryan shifted his weight and yawned.

“You’re awake,” Brendon stated, and Ryan looked up.

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

Brendon moved his hand to a more comfortable spot on Ryan’s waist. “You were pretty close.”

Ryan shrugged and shifted into Brendon’s lap. Brendon barely noticed the change, seeing as Ryan had been pretty much on top of him since they sat down, except for the added weight on him now, and the fact that Ryan was bony as hell.

“Is this okay?” Ryan asked.

Brendon shifted himself so that his thigh wasn’t being stabbed by Ryan’s femur. “Yeah, this is good.”

Ryan smiled and, thankfully for Brendon, didn’t move. Despite how tall and bony Ryan was, this position was comfortable. It might have just been that Brendon liked having Ryan this close to him, but he really wouldn’t mind if Ryan sat on his lap far more often, even if it did leave some hard-to-explain bruises on his legs.

“How are we going to tell everyone?” Ryan asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“We don’t have to until we’re ready,”

“Yeah but like,” he paused. “When we are, how?”

Brendon didn’t know the answer. The band wasn’t huge yet by any means but they had a big enough audience that it would be a big deal. They only had one chance and if they messed it up they couldn’t go back.

Ryan understood that Brendon didn’t have the answer. “We can figure it out when we get to that point if that’s easier.”

Brendon smiled. “Much easier. Thanks.”

Ryan nodded and leaned his head back on Brendon’s shoulder. "No problem.”

Brendon knew that if Ryan stayed like that with his eyes closed, he’d fall asleep and Brendon would be stuck in that position until he woke up. He didn’t mind, though.


	13. Joshler - Things Change (It's Not A Bad Thing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh Dun is a therapist and a good one, he'd never let something as trivial as romantic affection get in the way of treatment, but Tyler Joseph has been making that hard.

The clock on Josh’s desk read 4:15pm; he had another 45 minutes before he was finally free to go home. These last 45 minutes on Friday were never bad, though, because that was the time he saw Tyler Joseph. Tyler had been seeing Josh as his therapist for over four years and they had quite a bond. When Tyler had first come to see him, he’d been recently released from the psych ward at the hospital after checking himself in for wanting to kill himself. He'd said he didn’t want to die, but he'd made no major signs of wanting to live, either. It had taken Josh almost a month to get him talking honestly about what was going on. Josh would admit he liked Tyler a little too much to be professional, but he was trying to ignore that because, after all, Tyler was his client and it would be wrong.

Tyler walked in without knocking like most of Josh’s older clients did, and sat down in the chair across from Josh’s.

“Hi, Dr. Dun.” He said, checking out the plant that Josh had growing on the coffee table.

“Hello, Tyler.”” he replied, waiting for Tyler to keep talking. When he didn’t, Josh continued. “How are you?”

Tyler smiled, which was rare for so early in their meeting. “Good, actually. I dunno, I’m just having a good day.”

“What’s making it so good?” Josh asked. He couldn’t help but be extremely proud of Tyler and how far he’d come.

“I really don’t know. I’m just happy today. I slept better than usual I guess.”

That wouldn’t be the whole reason, but it was a start. “Did you do something different before bed?”

Tyler shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Josh scribbled down what Tyler had said and looked over the pages from their previous visits. Over the past few months, Tyler had been improving fast. He still had bad days, of course, but they were far less common than they were before. Josh’s specialty was serious cases of depression, anxiety, BPD, MPD, et cetera, and with Tyler’s recent developments, it might be time for him to start going to a different therapist who focused on long-term recovery. He looked up at Tyler who was watching him. “Would you say you’re doing better overall than you were, say, last November?”

Tyler only had to think for a moment before he nodded. “Yes,” he said surely. “Way better.”

“What would you think about maybe transferring to a different therapist in that case?” He said, hoping he sounded surer of himself than he felt. “One who can help you in ways I might not be able to anymore?”

Tyler’s face fell and Josh crossed his ankles. He wanted Tyler to do what was best for him, but he would really miss him if he left. “Do I have to?”

Josh drummed his fingers. “You don’t have to, but I would advise it. When you first came to me, you were what we call a high-risk patient. You understand why. The people I look at, they’re high-risk. You’re not high-risk anymore, you’ve gotten better. I simply don’t know if this is the place for you anymore, Tyler.” Josh was talking to Tyler but if felt like he was trying to convince himself.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” he said cautiously.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

***

Josh got a call a week later. He was supposed to be seeing Tyler the next day, so he was surprised to see that it was Tyler who was calling him. They had exchanged phone numbers only a few sessions in, and maybe it wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but he was worried about Tyler.

“You remember how you asked if I wanted to see a new therapist?” He asked.

Josh nodded and felt conflicted again as he thought about Tyler moving on. “Yes, I remember,” he prompted. “Have you thought about it?”

“Yeah,” he said with a surprising certainty in his voice; that was a good thing. “Ff you think I should, then yeah, I want to,”

“Really?” Josh said, sitting down on his couch and hoping Tyler didn’t hear his voice falter. “That’s wonderful. I can get you a list of people who you’d do great with. Many are friends of mine so-”

Tyler interrupted him, which was odd because he was usually very quiet and polite when they talked. “Dr. Dun, would you mind if I still saw you tomorrow?”

Josh smiled a little, but it felt pained. “Yes, of course you can.”

***

Josh’s leg was bouncing in anxiousness by the time 4:15 rolled around. He’d written about twenty emails to colleagues who he hoped would be a good fit for Tyler. It probably wasn’t really his responsibility to personally find Tyler a new therapist, but he knew there was a chance Tyler would procrastinate finding someone and the last thing Josh wanted was for Tyler to find up back where he started because of it. All the replies that he’d received so far said they’d be happy to see the boy that Josh had been talking about just about as much as he could without breaking confidentiality, and Josh hoped that Tyler would find someone who was a good fit. He was so concentrated on figuring out the final list of numbers to give Tyler today that he was actually surprised when Tyler himself walked in, right on time as always. “Oh, hello, Tyler,” he muttered, collecting himself and trying to sound professional.

“Oh, hello, Tyler,” he muttered, collecting himself and trying to sound professional.

 

Tyler sat down on the couch and smiled. “Hi, Dr. Dun, did I scare you?”

“Of course not,” he lied. “Just surprised me.”

“Were you busy? I can leave for a minute so you can work if you need.”

Josh shook his head and saved and printed the final cut of the list. “No, of course not, you’re my priority right now,”

There was a moment’s pause. “Will we see each other after this?”

Josh had been trying to ignore that question. “Well, I’m in contact with all the people who I made a list of that I think you'd do well with,” he handed Tyler the now-printed list. “I’d like you to try visiting a few until you find one you click with.”

Tyler took it and scanned over it. “What if I don’t click with any?”

“I have faith that you will, but if perchance that does happen, I have a few more people you can contact. But I believe that these will be your best bet.”

“Thank you for all your help, but will we see each other again?” he asked again, and Josh knew he couldn’t avoid answering him again.

“Not professionally, no, at least I hope not. Moving on is part of recovery, Tyler, and it’s just your time to move on. Should we see each other again, it would mean that you have become high-risk again, and neither of us wants that. Is there anything else you want to talk about during this time?”

“No,” he replied hastily. “Um, not really. Everything is pretty normal besides this. Sorry.”

Normal was good. “Don’t be sorry, Tyler. I’m happy to talk about whatever you want during our time.”

“Can I see you again?” Tyler asked, and Josh, in all honesty, was getting tired of answering, but he’d never tell Tyler that.

“I already told you, it’s time for you to move-”

Tyler interrupted him for the second time in twenty-four hours. “Not like that, I get that. I mean…”

He trailed off, and Josh had to prompt him to "Keep thinking about what you want to say, then talk.”

He paused a second, then continued. “Just, um, do you want to get a coffee or something?”

Tyler looked really uncomfortable and Josh wasn’t sure what to say. “So you just want to be friends?”

Tyler nodded, then hesitated and shook his head. Josh could feel his heart rate rising, but he refused to let himself get his hopes up. “I didn’t mean as friends, really... "

“So what did you mean?”

Tyler was practically squirming in his seat, and Josh felt bad for interrogating him like this, but he needed to make sure he was correct in what he was thinking.

“Like, I, uh, i-if you want to I kinda wanted to go out with you but that’s stupi-”

Josh never interrupted his patients, but this time, he did. “It’s not stupid and I’d actually really like that.”

Tyler looked legitimately surprised, and Josh was a bit shocked, too, honestly. He hadn’t expected to ever be able to act on his feelings for Tyler, but if Tyler was no longer his patient, there wasn’t actually anything wrong with it. Dating an ex-patient wasn’t something any therapist would recommend because Josh knew Tyler so much better than Tyler knew him, but Tyler had been the one who asked.

“You would?”

“Yeah. I have to ask, though... You’d be okay with dating me even with how much you’ve told me? You don’t know that much about me.”

Tyler laughed, which really wasn’t the reaction Josh expected. “Oh, yes I do. You talk about yourself more than you think.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You talk about your family and your day when I don’t want to talk sometimes, and you tell the best stories.”

Josh never realized, but now that Tyler said it, yeah, he did share a lot with some of his patients. “Oh, I suppose I do. Coffee, you said?”

“I like coffee,” he nodded. “But wherever you want to go is good.”

“Coffee sounds good. You have my number if you want to text me a time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tyler said, glancing at the clock. Josh followed his gaze and saw that their time was almost out.

“Let me know when you find a new therapist, okay?”

Tyler nodded. “I will, I promise. I’ll start looking tonight.”

“I’ll miss seeing you like this,” Josh said honestly.

“Me too,” Tyler stood, and Josh thought he was going to leave, but instead he walked over and hugged him. Josh tried not to hug his patients, no matter how much he wanted to sometimes, but Tyler wasn’t really his patient anymore, was he?

Josh hugged back and allowed Tyler to lean on him. “I’ll see you later,” he told Tyler, although it felt like he was saying it to remind himself and not Tyler.

“I know,” Tyler pulled back after a few lingering seconds. “I’ll find a time for coffee and text you. Bye, Dr. Dun.”

Josh nodded and watched him go, but stopped him at the doorway. “Tyler, wait, call me Josh.”

Tyler smiled and nodded. “Okay, see you soon, Josh.”

“You too.”


	14. Peterick - Things Worth Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Patrick's first year of college and he goes to a party. Not everyone there is willing to stand up for him when he needs it, fortunately, some are.

Pete looked around the crowded party as he picked up his third - or maybe fourth - drink. It was much more crowded than when he first got there. Apparently Gabe had decided to invite everyone on campus to their two-story fraternity home, which was crowded enough with just the ten of them there. He shuffled through the crowd of strangers into the living room, which was even more full than the hallway, and quickly decided that letting Gabe pick the guests was a bad plan. He made his way up the stairs and let out a sigh when he discovered that it was less crowded up there. He leaned against the railing of the stairs and gave himself some time to get over the social anxiety he'd be ignoring that had been building since people had started showing up. He looked around again and saw that downstairs was mainly just a sea of people he didn't know. It was hard to find even one face he recognized.

Out of pure boredom, he found himself watching one man in particular. He didn't know his name, but he knew he tended to be an angry drunk, so Pete would have to keep a bit of an eye on him tonight. He crossed over to the side of the room next to the bookcase full of everything but books and started talking to a group of guys Pete didn't recognize. Pete had been watching for a full minute before he even _noticed_ the freshman standing in the corner by them, looking uncomfortable. Pete couldn't help but smile. He remembered being nervous at his first party when talking to the older guys. It felt like so much more than a year ago. It took Pete a minute to realize that the freshman - or at least Pete was almost certain they had to be a freshman - wasn't uncomfortable because of the party itself. The guys were talking to him and occasionally reaching for his hands or putting their arms around him the way drunk guys do (no homo) but the freshman was shuffling away from them whenever they did and the longer Pete watched, the more scared the freshman looked. He abandoned his safety on the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd, trying not to make a scene. It took him a minute to find the group he'd been watching before in the crowd of people who were mostly taller than him but when he did, one guy had managed to back the freshman against the bookshelf and was brushing back strands of bleached hair from his forehead; the freshman was visibly trying to push him back but seemed too drunk to do much.

It took Pete a minute to realize that the freshman - or at least Pete was almost certain they had to be a freshman - wasn't uncomfortable because of the party itself. The guys were talking to him and occasionally reaching for his hands or putting their arms around him the way drunk guys do (no homo), but the freshman was shuffling away from them whenever they did and the longer Pete watched, the more scared the freshman looked. He abandoned his safety on the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd, trying not to make a scene. It took him a minute to find the group he'd been watching before in the crowd of people who were mostly taller than him but when he did, one guy had managed to back the freshman against the bookshelf and was brushing back strands of bleached hair from his forehead; the freshman was visibly trying to push him back but seemed too drunk to do much.  
  
"Hey," Pete said, hoping he didn't sound too drunk or pathetic. "Leave him alone. He doesn't like you."  
  
All four of the guys turned to Pete. "He wants it, see?" The guy who appeared to be the self-appointed leader said before grabbing the freshman and pulling him over by his shirt. The freshman grabbed onto him instinctively to keep himself up and the leader looked down at him. "Aw, see guys? He's just too drunk to say it, but he wants it."

"No, fuck you, he doesn't want shit from you." Pete said. His first instinct was to grab the freshman, but he didn't want to scare him any more.  
  
"What does it matter to you anyway?" One of the other guys added, standing between Pete and the freshman. "It matters because he'd a person and you're an asshole!" He yelled, not caring if people were staring anymore.

"It matters because he's a person and you're an asshole!" He yelled, not caring if people were staring anymore.  
  
"Dude, chill, it's cool, he'd leave if he wanted to," the leader guy - Pete was thinking his name was Ched, but he didn't know if that was true - said, and took his hands off the freshman to prove his point. The freshman tried to take a step away, but fell into one of the other guys who caught him and laughed. The leader walked over to Pete, and Pete hated that he had to look up to see his face. "Just let it go, man. He probably won't remember it in the morning anyway."  
  
"Doesn't fucking matter! You're talking about raping this dude like it's not big deal!"  
  
That got pretty much everyone in the house's attention and Pete could feel everyone's eyes on him. There was a tiny part of him that just wanted to run. Someone else would help. Someone who was bigger or stronger; but then why was no one else standing up for him now? Everyone was watching but no one else was helping. Was this really going to come down to Pete and four guys who were way bigger then him?  
  
"It's not rape. He's not saying no. Fuck off and mind your own business."  
  
Pete wasn't sure when he decided to - he didn't even now he did until after the fact - but he punched the guy straight in the eye, and he jumped back in pain. Pete was just as surprised as everyone else; he'd never thrown a punch before in his life, and he looked down at his hand to see a red stain covering his fingers - blood. But it wasn't his own. How the fuck had he done that? Then he noticed he was wearing a ring which was probably the only reason his punch had done any damage at all. He looked up to see that only the guy holding the freshman was now filtering out away from him, leaving the leader dude on the floor holding his eye. Pete kicked him in the side before taking a step towards the guy holding the freshman, who immediately dropped him and disappeared into the crowd. Pete thought to follow but the freshman fell into him as soon as he was dropped, and Pete didn't have the heart to leave him. He looked down at the guy still on the floor and watched as Travie dragged him towards the door despite his protests. Pete picked the freshman up and was surprised by the people who crowded around him to tell him he was brave and pat his back. He wanted to yell at them for not doing anything, but he wanted to get the younger guy upstairs first.Pete found an empty bedroom after a few minutes and put the freshman down on the bed. It was a little difficult seeing as the kid really didn't want to let go. He looked up at pete with big, sea blue eyes and cling to his shirt. Pete pulled his hands off and put a blanket over him "I'll make sure people stay out of here for you." he added, hoping to calm the freshman's nerves.

Pete found an empty bedroom after a few minutes and put the freshman down on the bed. It was a little difficult seeing as the kid really didn't want to let go. He looked up at Pete with big, sea blue eyes and clung to his shirt. Pete pulled his hands off and put a blanket over him. "I'll make sure people stay out of here for you," he added, hoping to calm the freshman's nerves.  
  
The younger man reached out for Pete again, but Pete moved away. He could tell why he had been targeted so fast. Not only did he seem clingy and affectionate, but he was gorgeous. He was thin and had high cheekbones and a prominent jawline. His blue eyes and pink lips stood out against his pale skin and light blonde hair. "Thank you," he mumbled.  
  
Pete smiled. "No need. You sleep."  
  
The freshman sat up and Pete wanted to push him back down but he figured it was fruitless. "My name's Patrick."  
  
Pete smiled. "I'm Pete."  
  
"You're very brave, Pete."  
  
Pete shook his head. "Just trying to help."  
  
"I didn't think anyone would."  
  
Pete hoped to god the slurring of Patrick's words was only due to alcohol. If anyone drugged his kid he would kill them - literally murder them.  
  
"Sometimes people don't think they can help."  
  
Patrick nodded and looked down, studying the pattern on the clearance sheets.  
  
"Are you tired?" Pete asked, hoping he'd say yes.  
  
"Not really. I don't think I could sleep right now even if I was."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Patrick looked at him and Pete felt like an idiot for even asking. Of course. He had been practically raped, of course he didn't want to just go to sleep.  
  
"I'll stay right outside if you need. Or I can drive you home."  
  
Patrick shook his head. "Will you stay?"  
  
Pete hesitated a second before nodding. He didn't want people to get a wrong idea if he stayed up here with Patrick for too long, but he didn't care too much about that right now. "I'll stay."  
  
Patrick laid down again and Pete stayed sitting beside him and watching the door. After a few minutes, it opened, and Max walked in. "Pete?" He glanced at Patrick and fell silent.  
  
"He's not asleep. What's up?"  
  
"Travie and Gabe kicked them out and called security."  
  
"Good." Pete said, gritting his teeth.  
  
"How's he doing?"  
  
Patrick didn't react and Pete thought he'd fallen asleep. "He's okay. He's scared though."

Patrick shifted slightly, but didn’t react besides that to their conversation.

“You’re staying to keep an eye on him?”

Pete nodded. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Once he’s asleep.”

***

Patrick woke up the next morning to a room he didn’t recognise and a bad headache. _Of course_ he’d get drunk at his first party of college. He didn’t even remember having fun. He didn’t remember _anything_. Well… There was one thing, but maybe it was a dream. He remembered a voice. It wasn’t clear though. The memory was right there, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fade. He sighed and got up. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to get out of wherever he was before anyone else woke up.

He opened the door to see a cork board of pictures of a bunch of different guys with a Greek Epsilon painted in the center. Fuck. He was still in the fraternity house from last night, which shouldn’t have been surprising, and he didn’t know how to get home because he’d taken the bus here. He could hear noise coming from downstairs, and suddenly he had the urge to get as far away from it as possible; that was until whoever it was started talking.

Patrick couldn’t understand the words well - something about looking for a plate - but he knew the voice. It was the same one he’d remembered from last night. He hesitantly walked down the stairs and poked his head into the kitchen.

He didn’t know what he expected to happen when he looked in, but the other boy turned to face him as soon as he did, which caught both of them by surprise.

“Oh,” the other boy said. Patrick knew his name somewhere in the back of his mind, but he just couldn’t think of it. “You’re awake.”

“Um, yeah,” Patrick said, shuffling into the room awkwardly.

“You hungry?” he offered Patrick a plate of scrambled eggs that made Patrick feel sick just because the thought of eating _anything_ right now sounded awful.

“I-I’m okay.”

“Eat. It’ll help with the hangover.”

Patrick took the plate and picked at the food, still not really wanting to eat.

“What do you remember?”

Patrick hesitated and tried to remember again, but still nothing. “Not much.”

“Not surprised. You got really drunk and some dicks tried to take you home.”

Patrick bit his lip. He was glad he didn’t remember that. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“No problem. Need a ride home?”

Patrick didn’t want to burden this guy any more than he already had, but he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t have any cash for a taxi, and his car was still on campus. “That’d be great. Sorry. What’s your name?”

Patrick expected him to be annoyed but he just laughed. “Oh, sorry. Pete.”

Patrick wouldn’t say that brought back any memories from last night, and maybe that was a good thing, but it made him feel safe. Pete was cute and nice too; he’d ask for his number before he got dropped off. He had a feeling that despite Patrick probably making a complete fool of himself last night, he might have a chance with this guy.


	15. Ryden - Coffee Dates

Ryan parked outside one of the various cafes in Los Angeles but didn’t get out of the car. He didn’t have to go, he could just leave right now and everything would stay normal, but something compelled him to get out anyway. He could feel his heart pounding everywhere and was all-too aware of how much his palms were sweating as he walked into the building. He thought for a minute that he’d been stood up and he was almost relieved but then he noticed the man sitting along with his back to Ryan; he didn’t need to see his face to know exactly who it was.

  
It had been years since Ryan and Brendon talked, but they had ran into each other outside a bar, both varying levels of drunk. Brendon was wasted and desperate - Ryan was surprised he remembered the event well enough to show up - and had practically begged Ryan to meet him. Not that Ryan could blame him, Brendon had always had someone, and with Sarah out of his life… When they were kids, they always had each other, that was until Sarah replaced Ryan’s spot in Brendon’s life; now Brendon was alone and didn’t know who else to go to. Ryan agreed just to settle for good that things wouldn’t work between them like they used to, but even if he wouldn’t admit it, he also hoped that maybe things could go back to how they were.

  
He sat down and it took Brendon by surprise. He jumped and his glasses slid down his nose, Ryan resisted the urge to laugh. Sometimes he forgot that exuberant, confident performer in front of him was still Brendon.

  
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, composing himself and putting down his phone.

  
“Neither did I,” Ryan said, it was colder than he intended. He _did_ want to be here but he didn’t want to be if it would only end badly, he had better things to be doing with his time.

  
“Why did you come?”

  
“I knew I'd hate myself if I didn't.” He answered honestly.

  
There was a long silence and Ryan considered just leaving at that point but Brendon finally spoke up “what happened… it was my fault and I'm sorry.”

  
Ryan was surprised. He hadn't actually expected Brendon to bring up that night in Cape Town, never mind take responsibility for it “oh?” He said dumbfounded.

  
“I'm sorry that things ended that way.”

  
Ryan hesitated, but his pride was too far gone by now to be saved, so why try “it was my fault too, I overreacted.”

  
“It’s weird to be talking about this, and with you, it’s-”  
“Yeah… It feels… like it’s fake… or something.” Ryan finished. It was rare that he was at such a loss for words.

  
There was a silence; it wasn’t helped by the ending of the song that played over the radio. The few seconds between songs seemed like it took forever, but finally, Ryan heard the G note come over the radio, he knew immediately what song it was. Just his luck that whatever god there was had decided that this was the time to play Nine In The Afternoon. He didn’t look at Brendon for probably too long; he was surprised to see him smiling when he finally turned his head. “It’s like fate or something.” Brendon said when their eyes met.

  
He laughed softly and hid his face in one hand “you’re still so cheesy.”

  
“And you still love it, right?”

  
“Yeah,” he scoffed “something like that.”

  
“You remember when you wrote this?”

  
“Vaguely. I remember you falling asleep on me.”

  
“And you had to stop writing because I was using your book as a pillow? Because you’re a big softy?”

  
He smiled and nodded. It was odd being happy when he heard this song. Most of the time, when he heard this song come on the radio, he changed it as soon as he could or left the room because it brought back to many memories. They were good memories, which only made it so much worse. He didn’t want to remember staying up to write with Brendon and falling asleep with him, or being up on stage with him and Jon. He didn’t want to remember that, he missed it too much. When he remembered those shows - the dumb costumes and inexperienced, unpracticed songs - it was all too much. He didn’t want to admit it, but damn, those were some of the best moments of his life.

  
“You don’t hate me, right?” Brendon asked to break Ryan’s train of thought which was quickly spiraling.

  
“What?” he asked, almost thinking he misheard “no, of course not. I thought you hated me.”

  
“Nah. Things just-”

  
“Got out of hand.”

  
“Yeah… Thanks.”

  
“For?”

  
He laughed “finding the words.”

  
“Still doesn’t encompass everything, though.”

  
“I know, but it’s a start. Can we just agree we feel the same?”

  
“Unless you secretly hate me.” He smiled slightly, looking fondly across the table.

  
“I promise I don’t.”

  
His foot hit Brendon’s as he shifted, the brief contact was nice “you’ve never been trustworthy, though. You always got high and told Jon everything.”

  
He laughed and looked down “yeah… I’m working at that.”

  
“Still?”

  
“It’s a process.”

  
This time when there was a silence, it didn’t feel awkward. Ryan no longer wanted to get up and leave, in fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do. This little hipster cafe felt like a safe haven; away from their awful past and bad memories of lonely nights. Things were okay here, actually, things were good, great even. Ryan was happy like he hadn’t been in a while. It wasn’t as if he was _never_ happy since the split - as their fans had started calling it - there was just this feeling like he’d lost something. He’d be fine for a while but then he’d hear Pete or one of his other friends talk about touring with their best friends or one of their old songs and he’d feel broken all over again.

  
“I’ll see you again, won’t I?” Ryan asked as the next song started.

  
“Duh,” Brendon replied in a way that was just so like him that it made Ryan smile.

  
“I’ll text you.” He said.

  
“You’d need my number to do that…”

  
“Oh,” Brendon said, looking down “yeah.”

  
Ryan took Brendon’s phone off the table and added his number, which he’d changed in spite years ago. “I’ll see you around.”

  
“Hey, Ry?”

  
“What?”

  
“I missed you."

"I missed you too, B."


End file.
